it 


UCSB   LIBRARY 


Mr.  Bemis  was  driving  furiously."  —  Page  5. 


PAULINE    WYMAN 


BY 


SOPHIE   MAY 

AUTHOR  OF  "  THE  DOCTOR'S  DAUGHTER,"  "  OUR  HELEN,"  "  THE 
ASBURY  TWINS,"  "  QUINNEBASSET  GIRLS,"  "JANET,"  ETC. 


ILLUSTRATED  BY   VICTOR  A.  SEARLES 


BOSTON 
LEE  AND   SHEPARD   PUBLISHERS 


COPYRIGHT,  1898,  BY  LEE  AND  SHEPARD 


AH  Rights  Reserved 


PAULINE  WYMAN 


Nortooot) 
J.  S.  Gushing  &  Co.  —  Berwick  &  Smith. 
Norwood  Max.  U.S.A. 


9Ta  tfje  ^rectaug  fflemarg 

OF  MY  NIECE 

REBECCA  CLARKE   LINDSAY 

FOR   WHOSE   SAKE 
ALL  YOUNG  GIRLS   ARE   DEAR   TO   ME 

THIS  STORY 

OF    AN    EARNEST    HAPPY    YOUNG    LIFE 
IS   DEDICATED 


CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  PACK 

I.  PAULINE  AT  HOME i 

II.  "THE  ENGLISH  ROSE"          .        .        .        .12 

III.  A  DISCLOSURE 23 

IV.  UNCLE  IKE  AND  ROXY 34 

V.  BREAKING  IT  TO  JAMES          ....  46 

VI.  THE  LITTLE  TEACHER 59 

VII.  THE  BOAT  RACE 69 

VIII.  THE  RED-HAIRED  STRANGER          .        .        .  82* 

IX.  PAULINE'S  ENGINEER 97 

X.  A  NEW  IDEA 112 

XI.  IN  THE  WOOD-LOT 125 

XII.  « JIM'S  ROOM" 135 

XIII.  THE  PROFESSOR  AND  MRS.  WYMAN      .        .  148 

XIV.  THE  "TROUT-FLY" 159 

XV.  "  I   THOUGHT  YOU   WOULD   COME  "     .                       .  170 

XVI.  GRANDMA  PETTIJOHN 183 


vi  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XVII.    MAJOR  MELZAR 196 

XVIII.  "  BLUEBEARD V  CHAMBER    ....  209 

XIX.    THE  SILENT  NUN 220 

XX.    AN  EXPERIMENT 233 

XXI.    THE  END 245 


LIST   OF    ILLUSTRATIONS 

"MR.  BEMIS  WAS  DRIVING  FURIOUSLY"      .       Frontispiece 

PAGE 

"  •  IT  TAKES  A  MAN,  DON'T  YOU  KNOW  ?  '  "  .       .       .      55 

"  TYING  THE  HANDKERCHIEF  SECURELY  AROUND  THE 

ANIMAL'S  NECK"     .  •  .        .        -130 

"  '  DO  YOU  MEAN  MY  LITTLE  GIRL,  OUR  LITTLE  PAUL- 
INE ?'"     154 

"  <•  HELLO  !  EVA  !  HELLO  !    I  CAN'T  LAND  !'"  .  .168 

PAULINE'S  DISCOVERY  OF  THE  WILL  .        .  .  .216 

" ' PRAY  TELL  ME  IF  INK  EVER  FADES '"    .  .  .    230 

" '  WHY,  WHAT'S  THIS  ? '  HE  EXCLAIMED  "    .  .  .    247 


PAULINE  WYMAN. 


i. 

PAULINE   AT    HOME. 

IT  had  been  called  the  old  Wyman  place  for 
fifty  years  or  more,  a  sharp-roofed,  two-storied 
house  standing  sunning  itself  on  the  slope  of  a  hill. 

Formerly  it  had  been  red,  shaming  the  cinnamon 
roses  that  blushed  annually  under  the  west  win- 
dows, and  most  unbecoming  to  the  lilacs  as  they 
blossomed  out  in  the  spring.  Now  it  was  a  glar- 
ing white,  relieved  only  by  green  blinds  and  climb- 
ing woodbine  and  bittersweet. 

A  picket-fence  had  once  enclosed  the  simple 
dooryard,  but  at  present  there  were  no  boundary 
lines  except  those  made  by  two  elm  trees,  a  maple 
tree,  and  an  enormous  willow. 

The  house  faced  the  street  askance  and  com- 
manded a  wide  view  of  the  river,  though  in  doing 
this  it  turned  its  back  upon  a  wonderful  mountain 
range  looming  up  in  the  north.  It  was  the  sight 
of  Old  Saddleback,  Mount  White,  and  Mount 
Abraham,  forty  miles  away,  with  the  glittering 
ponds,  Half-Moon  and  Lubec,  that  captivated 
B  l 


2  PAULINE  WYMAN. 

Pauline  Wyman,  and  reconciled  her  to  the  square, 
old-fashioned  house  which  had  been  her  home  for 
the  sixteen  and  a  half  years  of  her  life. 

She  liked  to  stand  on  the  back  doorstone  and 
drink  in  the  remote  grandeur  with  her  eyes.  Paul- 
ine was  not  an  idler,  but  an  enthusiast.  Under  the 
bronze  ripples  of  her  hair  lay  two  inordinately 
large  organs  of  ideality,  which  her  father  said  were 
"as  flighty  as  the  wings  on  Mercury's  slippers." 

She  never  meant  to  linger  too  long  on  that  flat 
doorstone.  She  was  the  only  daughter,  the  sister  of 
four  boys,  and  there  was  scant  time  for  lingering. 
Life  was  earnest  and  full  of  practical  demands 
at  the  Wymans' ;  still  it  did  happen  sometimes  that 
the  mother  was  obliged  to  call  "  O  Pauline,  O  Paul- 
ine "  !  with  considerable  emphasis,  before  the  girl 
would  remember  to  go  into  the  house  and  finish 
her  sweeping. 

On  the  particular  morning  in  April  when  our 
story  begins,  as  she  stood  regarding  the  mountains. 
in  rapt  delight,  a  man  drove  around  to  the  north 
door  in  apparent  haste,  and,  without  alighting  from 
his  wagon,  asked  in  a  loud,  aggressive  voice,  — 

"  Is  the  squire  at  home  ?  " 

Pauline  knew  the  man,  Mr.  Bartholomew  Bemis, 
a  wealthy  farmer  from  the  Johonnet  neighborhood. 
But  what  right  had  he  to  scowl  at  her  so  fiercely  ? 

"  I  don't  know  whether  my  father  is  at  home  or 
not,  Mr.  Bemis,"  she  replied  with  a  fine,  unused 
girlish  dignity;  "but  I'll  go  in  and  inquire." 

Mrs.  Wyman,  rolling  out  cookies  in  the  pantry, 


PAULINE  AT  HOME.  3 

looked  up  with  an  appearance  of  interest  on  learn- 
ing who  had  called. 

"  Really,  Pauline,  I  don't  know  where  your  father 
is.  He  was  going  to  the  blacksmith's  sometime 
this  morning,  but  if  you  didn't  see  him  start  I  dare 
say  you'll  find  him  in  the  attic." 

Pauline  ran  swiftly  up  two  flights  of  stairs.  The 
second  flight  was  steep,  with  extremely  narrow  steps. 

"Father,"  she  called  out  on  her  way,  "father, 
are  you  there  ? " 

It  would  never  do,  she  thought,  to  keep  Mr. 
Bemis  waiting,  —  so  angry  a  man,  and  a  possible 
client.  But  there  was  no  answer.  Pauline  tried 
the  door ;  it  was  fastened.  "  Then  he  must  be 
here,"  she  thought,  knocking  hard. 

"  What  do  you  want  ? "  asked  a  voice  from  within. 

"  O  father !  Mr.  Bemis  is  down  there  at  the  back 
door  and  wants  to  see  you,  and  can't  wait  a  min- 
ute." 

"  Bemis  ?  Ahem  !  I'll  be  there  directly,"  re- 
sponded Mr.  Wyman,  a  pale,  scholarly-looking  man, 
opening  the  door  and  peering  out,  both  hands  full 
of  papers. 

"Wants  that  strip  of  land,"  muttered  he,  as  if 
explaining  the  man's  errand  to  himself,  not  to 
Pauline,  who  stood  regarding  him  uneasily. 

"  O  father,  please,  father,"  she  ventured  to 
urge,  "  do  hurry,  or  he'll  drive  right  away !  You 
know  they  call  him  Bumblebee,  —  he's  so  impa- 
tient." 

Mr.  Wyman  smiled  benignly. 


4  PAULINE  WYMAN. 

"  Impatient,  is  he  ? "  glancing  down  at  the  papers 
in  his  hands,  and  assorting  them  into  two  separate 
piles. 

Then,  without  the  slightest  appearance  of  haste, 
he  turned  back  to  the  attic,  knelt  down,  and  de- 
posited the  papers  in  an  old  brass-nailed  hair-trunk 
near  a  window.  Pauline  watched  him  with  inter- 
est. She  had  often  wondered  why  her  father 
should  spend  so  much  time  in  that  dusty  old  attic, 
hung  with  cobwebs  and  strewed  with  ancient  news- 
papers. Papa  —  or  father,  as  he  preferred  to  be 
called  —  was  just  a  little  queer  about  some  things. 

When  he  was  fully  ready,  and  not  a  moment 
sooner,  Mr.  Wyman  went  down  leisurely  to  meet 
Mr.  Bart  Bemis. 

"  H'm  !  I'd  about  given  you  up,"  said  that  man, 
testily,  as  he  flicked  a  fly  off  his  waiting  horse. 
"Wanted  to  talk  to  you  about  Eben  Craig.  You 
know  Eb's  been  trying  for  some  time  to  crowd  me 
off  my  land,  and  now  he's  gone  and  built  a  hen- 
house right  on  the  dividing-line." 

"Is  that  so?  Why,  a  hen-house  must  interfere 
with  your  view." 

"  It  interferes  with  my  views,  yes !  Wouldn't  it 
with  yours  ?  How'd  you  like  to  have  one  o'  them 
plaguy  things  stuck  right  out  here  in  plain  sight 
before  your  west  windows  ?  " 

"  Why,  to  be  sure,  it's  wrong,  very  wrong.  Prob- 
ably Craig  didn't  consider." 

"  Now  look  here,  Squire,  none  o'  your  smoothing 
it  over !  Craig  did  it  o'  purpose !  He's  always 


PAULINE  AT  HOME.  5 

claimed  the  land  was  his,  and  this  is  the  way  he 
takes  to  bluff  it  out  and  drive  me  to  terms.  But 
I'm  bound  to  have  the  law  on  him,  and  I  want  you 
to  help  me." 

Mr.  Wyman  raised  his  eyebrows  reflectively. 

"  Are  you  thoroughly  convinced,  Bemis,  that  that 
strip  doesn't  belong  to  Craig  ?  Though  to  be  sure 
if  it  does,  that  wouldn't  justify  him  in  such  un- 
neighborly  behavior." 

"  Belong  to  him  ?  No.  Haven't  I  got  a  deed 
that  tells  the  story  ?  " 

"  To  be  sure ;  but  those  old  surveys  were  often 
defective ;  there's  the  point  with  Craig.  Sup- 
pose we  go  out,  you  and  I.  I  know  something  of 
surveying." 

"Yes,  you  know  altogether  too  much,"  blazed 
the  irate  farmer,  beginning  to  turn  his  horse. 
"  But  surveying  wasn't  what  I  came  to  you  for. 
I  came  to  complain  of  that  hen-house  as  a  nui- 
sance, and  get  the  law  on  Craig." 

"  Still,  Mr.  Bemis,  pacific  measures  —  " 

"  Pacific  measures  go  hang !  You're  the  best  law- 
yer in  this  country,  Squire  Wyman,  if  you'll  only 
stick  to  your  business;  and  there's  nobody's  word 
goes  further  with  a  jury.  But  I'm  off  now  to  Law- 
yer Flint.  He  won't  bother  me  with  any  of  this 
soft  kind  of  talk." 

And  before  Mr.  Wyman  could  reply,  Mr.  Bemis 
was  driving  furiously  down  the  road  without  so 
much  as  a  "good  morning."  Pauline  had  heard 
the  conversation  from  the  pantry  window.  Mrs. 


6  PAULINE  WYMAN. 

Wyman  had  heard  it  from  the  kitchen,  but  did 
not  look  at  her  husband  now,  as  he  entered  the 
house  followed  by  the  dog  Nox.  She  presumed 
he  had  been  exactly  right  in  what  he  had  said,  or 
tried  to  say,  to  Mr.  Bemis.  He  was  high-minded 
and  scrupulous,  and  she  revered  him  for  it.  Still, 
sometimes  it  occurred  to  her  that  possibly  he  had 
mistaken  his  calling.  People  said  he  was  unusu- 
ally well  read  in  the  law,  and  his  arguments  were 
apt  to  be  clear  and  convincing.  The  drawback 
was  that  he  seldom  got  a  chance  to  plead  his 
cases,  as  he  settled  most  of  them  outside  the 
court-room. 

Meanwhile  his  family  was  growing  poorer  every 
day.  He  regretted  this,  but  did  not  take  it  very 
seriously.  He  had  a  happy  faculty  of  forgetting 
the  stern  realities  of  life  in  "  the  sweet  serenity  of 
books." 

"Pauline,"  said  Mrs.  Wyman,  "it's  time  those 
parlor  windows  were  washed  again.  You'd  better 
use  ammonia." 

"Yes,  mother,"  said  Pauline,  absently.  "Jim 
doesn't  have  to  wash  windows,"  she  thought. 

She  could  see  him,  her  eldest  brother,  far  down 
the  street,  on  the  bicycle  which  Uncle  Ike  had 
given  him  as  a  reward  for  being  a  boy.  It  would 
have  been  fairer  if  he  had  given  it  to  herself  as  a 
slight  compensation  for  being  a  girl.  James  was 
in  college  right  here  in  Eveleth ;  and  this  again 
was  Uncle  Ike's  doing. 

"  I,  too,  would  like  to  go  to  college,  —  Vassar 


PAULINE  AT  HOME.  7 

is  my  choice,  —  but  what  have  I  to  do  with  the 
higher  education  ?  It  is  ordained  that  I  should 
stay  at  home  and  wash  windows." 

She  laughed  and  ran  for  the  bottle  of  ammonia. 

"Poor,  honorable  mother,"-  — she  had  just  been 
reading  a  Japanese  book,  and  had  caught  some  of 
the  Japanese  phrases,  —  "  poor,  honorable  mother, 
don't  you  call  this  the  queerest  house  ?  On  the 
north  side  it's  all  poetry,  on  the  south  it's  all 
prose." 

Mrs.  Wyman  did  not  reply  at  once.  She  was 
considering  whether  to  ask  her  husband  again  to 
split  some  kindling-wood.  No;  he  had  gone  to 
reading;  she  would  not  disturb  him. 

"  Poetry,  Pauline  ?  There's  a  stable  on  the 
north  and  a  vegetable  garden ;  where  do  you 
find  the  poetry  ?  " 

"  In  the  mountain  view,  honorable  mother !  You 
look  at  Old  Saddleback,  and  feel  that  you're  go- 
ing to  be  something  and  do  something  in  the 
world.  Then  you  come  into  the  house,  into  this 
old  parlor  —  " 

"  I  wish  myself  we  had  better  furniture,  Paul- 
ine." 

"  Oh,  it's  not  the  furniture,  mamma ;  it's  not 
that  at  all !  "  said  Pauline,  quickly,  fearing  her 
mother's  feelings  were  wounded.  "  I  mean  the 
view  from  the  front  windows  takes  you  down  a 
little,  —  trees  and  a  river,  and  the  dust  blowing 
up  from  the  road.  I  love  it,  but  it's  commonplace 
compared  with  the  mountains." 


8  PAULINE   WYMAN. 

"  But  the  windows  are  not  commonplace,  dear. 
There's  a  tinge  of  unreality  about  them,  surely." 

Pauline  laughed.  The  small  panes  were  so  bril- 
liantly stained  and  streaked  that,  in  looking  out  of 
them,  you  seemed  to  peer  through  a  vista  of  rain- 
bows. 

"  Well,  the  rainbows  do  rather  glorify  the  win- 
dows, if  you  choose ;  but  it's  the  mountains  that 
glorify  me,"  persisted  Pauline.  Her  remarks  were 
interrupted  by  a  wail  from  outside. 

"  It's  dear  little  Arthur  crying ;  those  boys  are 
teasing  him !  "  she  exclaimed. 

She  ran  to  the  front  door  and,  without  asking  a 
single  question,  called  out :  "Go  away,  you  naughty 
boys  !  Arthur  hasn't  done  anything  wrong !  " 

The  little  brother  hid  his  head  in  her  protecting 
apron,  while  the  other  small  boys  continued  to 
vociferate. 

"Pauline,  you're  too  absurd!"  cried  James,  rid- 
ing into  the  mob  on  his  bicycle,  followed  by  his 
friend,  Ned  Hallett,  on  another  wheel.  "Why 
didn't  you  learn  the  rights  of  the  case  ?  Arthur 
has  torn  their  kite.  Now,  you  young  ones,  stop 
yelling.  Dan  will  mend  your  kite.  Go  find  Dan ; 
he's  'round  somewhere." 

There  was  a  lull,  while  the  mob  ran  in  pursuit  of 
Danville  Wyman,  followed  by  the  culprit  Arthur. 

Ned  Hallett  turned  to  Pauline,  laughing.  "  I've 
brought  Eva's  wheel  to  you,"  said  he,  "  and  I  hope 
you'll  like  riding  it  better  than  I  do." 

Eva  was  his  sister  who  had  lately  gone  to  Michi- 


PAULINE  AT  HOME.  9 

gan  to  visit  her  sick  grandmother.  During  her 
absence  it  was  understood  that  Pauline,  her  most 
intimate  friend,  was  to  use  her  wheel. 

"Come  now,  Paul,"  said  James,  "let's  take  a 
spin  to  Uncle  Ike's." 

And  before  many  minutes  Pauline  was  racing 
away  with  her  brother,  leaving  the  rainbow  win- 
dows to  their  own  bright  reflections. 

As  Mrs.  Wyman  took  up  the  ammonia  bottle  to 
set  it  away,  she  remarked  to  Ned  Hallett,  with  a 
smile,  — 

"Well,  at  any  rate  my  only  daughter  is  not 
greatly  cumbered  with  care." 

Ned,  watching  the  gay  young  girl  from  the  door- 
stone,  only  replied,  — 

"  Gee  whiz,  how  she  goes,  Mrs.  Wyman  !  And 
so  little  practice  as  she  has  had,  too !  " 

"  I  know  I'm  over-indulgent,"  thought  the 
mother ;  "  but  my  own  youth  was  so  drab-colored 
and  restrained  that  I  do  want  Pauline  to  have  a 
little  girlish  freedom.  Hark,  there's  the  baby  cry- 
ing." 

And  she  hastened  into  the  house. 

The  brother  and  sister  rode  on  in  silence,  Paul- 
ine's eyes  shining  and  dancing,  for  she  was  gain- 
ing a  little,  and  when  they  reached  Uncle  Ike's 
was  a  few  seconds  ahead. 

Colonel  Isaac  Selden  was  weeding  a  flower-bed 
in  front  of  his  brick  cottage,  but  arose  from  his 
rheumatic  old  knees  as  the  young  people  drew  up 
to  the  cedar  hedge  and  halted. 


10  PAULINE   WYMAN. 

"  How  do  you  do,  Paulina  ?  How  do  you  do, 
Jamie  ?  Glad  to  see  you  both." 

He  always  addressed  his  grand-nephew  as  Jamie 
in  remembrance  of  his  own  little  son  dead  long  ago. 
Uncle  Ike  had  been  a  widower  for  more  than  thirty 
years,  though  the  young  people  in  the  town  gener- 
ally thought  and  spoke  of  him  as  a  bachelor. 

"  Well,  Jamie,  does  the  bicycle  go  all  right  ? " 

"  Famously,  Uncle  Ike,"  replied  James,  and 
would  have  added,  "  Thank  you  for  it  again,"  only 
the  old  gentleman  objected  to  a  superfluity  of 
gratitude. 

"  That's  clever  now.  And  this  is  Eva's  wheel, 
is  it,  Paulina  ?  But  what  in  the  world  —  " 

For  Jim  had  begun  to  laugh  immoderately.  His 
mouth  emitted  no  sound,  but  he  was  bent  nearly 
double,  shaking  with  a  perfect  earthquake  of  sup- 
pressed mirth. 

"  Look  at  that  fellow  just  heaving  in  sight,  — 
there,  coming  this  way.  Keep  your  eye  on  him, 
Paul,  till  he  gets  here." 

Pauline  peered  into  the  distance  at  the  person 
indicated.  As  he  drew  nearer  he  proved  to  be  a 
tall,  dark,  well-dressed  stranger,  who  removed  his 
hat  and  swept  them  all  a  polite  bow. 

"  Do  tell  me,"  she  cried,  as  soon  as  he  was  out 
of  hearing,  "  is  anything  the  matter  with  him,  or 
what  are  you  laughing  at  ? " 

For  James,  having  returned  the  stranger's  bow 
with  preternatural  solemnity,  was  now  doubled  up 
again  in  "comic  convulsions." 


PAULINE  AT  HOME.  11 

"Wait  till  we  get  home.  No,  perhaps  Uncle 
Ike  would  like  to  hear  it,"  added  James,  with  an 
afterthought  of  politeness. 

"  To  be  sure  I  would,  Jamie.  But  who  is  it  ? 
He  looks  like  a  very  respectable  young  man." 

"That's  our  new  tutor,  Uncle  Ike.  It's  Mr. 
Wishart.  And  such  a  joke  as  we've  played  on 
him!  Oh,  I  can't  live  to  tell  it!" 


II. 

"THE  ENGLISH  ROSE." 

"  YOU'D  better  alight  and  come  into  the  house," 
said  the  colonel,  hospitably. 

"  No,  thank  you,  uncle,  it's  not  a  long  story," 
returned  James,  secretly  chagrined  at  being  obliged 
to  tell  it  before  a  man  who  was  hardly  likely  to 
appreciate  a  college  joke. 

"Very  well,"  said  the  excellent  colonel,  seating 
himself  on  the  doorstone  and  regarding  his  guests 
with  smiling  complacency. 

He  had  thoughtful,  kindly,  blue  eyes,  a  sensitive 
mouth,  and  a  certain  meekness  of  expression,  which 
marked  him  as  one  who  expects  little  of  life  and 
regards  that  little  as  quite  beyond  his  deserts. 

"Very  well,  Jamie,  I'm  curious  to  know  what 
you  could  have  done  to  that  young  man." 

"  It's  just  a  bit  of  fun,  uncle.  You  know  Mr. 
Logan,  our  Latin  tutor,  went  to  South  America, 
and  we  had  to  have  his  place  supplied.  This 
fellow's  an  Englishman  named  Wishart." 

"  Wishart?  That's  a  Scotch  name,"  commented 
Uncle  Ike. 

"  Is  it  ?  Well,  anyway,  he  has  been  over  in  the 
Provinces  a  while,  and  our  Prex's  wife's  relations 
heard  of  him,  and  the  Prex  pitched  on  him  for  a 

12 


"THE   ENGLISH    ROSE."  13 

tutor.  'Twas  done  on  the  sly.  We  fellows  were 
raving.  Americans  are  good  enough  for  us  any 
day ;  but  our  opinion  never's  asked  by  Prex  Bax- 
ter. So  he  came." 

"  Who  came  ?  " 

"  Why,  Mr.  Wishart,  of  course,  Allan  C.  Wish- 
art  ;  came  here  last  week  to  the  Windermere ; 
I  told  you  at  the  time,  Paul ;  came  to  look  'round 
and  see  if  we  were  up-to-date  and  he  wanted 
the  position.  So  English,  don-cher-know  ?  That 
disgusted  us,  Uncle  Ike,  his  lordly  way  of  looking 
'round." 

The  colonel  nodded. 

"  There  were  fifteen  or  twenty  of  us  in  it.  We 
delegated  Ned  Hallett,  John  Blythe,  and  Sam 
Fiske  to  go  to  the  Windermere  to  tea  and  watch 
his  table  manners.  Isn't  it  our  duty  the  same  as 
his  to  'look  'round'  and  see  if  all's  satisfactory?" 

Pauline  smiled,  knowing  the  ways  of  boys. 

"  And  how  did  he  behave  ? " 

"  Worse  than  we  expected.  Probably  never  ate 
at  a  first-class  hotel  before,  —  was  scared  of  so 
many  people.  When  John  Blythe  passed  him  the 
butter,  he  said  '  Thank  you,  Miss ! '  Honestly. 
And  they  saw  him  pour  milk  over  his  roast  beef !  " 

"  Why,  Jim,  what  an  agony  of  fright  he  was  in." 

"  It  seemed  like  it.  But  after  a  while  he  calmed 
down,  and  raised  his  eyes  from  his  plate  and  talked 
more  rationally.  Quarrelled  with  his  next  neigh- 
bor about  one  of  the  planets,  contradicted  him 
flatly,  and  shut  the  other  man  up. 


14  PAULINE   WYMAN. 

"And  for  all  his  bashfulness  he  was  an  Eng- 
lish bully  to  the  head  waiter ;  wouldn't  eat  a  thing 
till  the  waiter  explained  what  'twas  made  of  and 
what  'twas  called  and  why  it  wasn't  something 
different." 

"  What  insolence  !  " 

"  Yes.  It  didn't  take  our  boys  long  to  size  him 
up.  He's  a  chump,  and  we've  no  use  for  him.  Con- 
ceited, donder-headed ;  no  pretensions  whatever  to 
being  a  gentleman." 

"You  astonish  me,"  said  Colonel  Selden.  "Are 
you  sure  the  boys  didn't  watch  the  wrong  man  ? " 

"Oh,  they  had  the  right  man,  Uncle  Ike.  The 
trouble  is,  Mr.  Wishart's  a  bookworm.  We've  had 
that  kind  and  it  won't  work.  We  want  an  all- 
around  man  and  a  gentleman.  Mr.  Wishart,  you 
see,  has  been  shut  up  all  his  life  on  that  '  right 
little,  tight  little  island,'  digging  into  the  dead  lan- 
guages, and  now  he's  come  to  Uncle  Sam's  country 
to  lord  it  over  the  natives.  But  he'll  find  out,  oh, 
he'll  find  out !  We'll  settle  him  !  John  looked  him 
over,  and  concluded  there  was  a  deep-seated  inno- 
cence at  the  bottom  of  his  heart ;  and  it  would  do 
to  play  our  little  game  on  him." 

"  What  little  game  ?  "  said  Pauline.  "  You  boys 
are  so  cruel." 

James  stole  a  glance  at  the  colonel. 

"  Go  on,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  briefly. 

"Well,  our  plan  was  —  in  case  he  didn't  suit  — 
to  initiate  him  into  our  secret  society.     New  thing," 
here  James  threw  back  his  head  to  laugh,  "  quite 


"THE   ENGLISH   ROSE."  15 

new.  We  hadn't  organized.  But  we  met  that 
evening  and  organized.  John  said  we'd  call  our 
society  the  '  English  Rose,'  because  that  was  the 
first  name  that  rose  in  his  mind.  Oh,  we  haven't 
had  such  fun  since  we  hazed  Si  Freeman !  " 

Pauline  shook  her  head ;  the  colonel  frowned. 
James  remembered  then  that  a  singular  prejudice 
exists  in  some  minds  against  hazing,  and  he  added 
deprecatingly,  — 

"  But  that  is  of  the  past  —  that's  barbaric.  This 
is  different ;  it  isn't  what  you  can  call  hazing.  We 
didn't  mean  to  hurt  a  hair  of  Wishart's  head,  we 
just  wanted  to  make  things  pleasant  for  him.  We 
got  rid  of  another  chump  tutor  in  a  similar  way, 
and  he  never  told  of  it,  not  he ! 

"  Well,  we  formed  our  society  night  before  last, 
and  that  evening  the  same  fellows  went  to  the 
Windermere  again,  and  sent  up  their  cards. 

"  His  lordship  seemed  surprised  when  he  came 
down  to  meet  them  in  the  parlor ;  didn't  remember 
a  soul,  though  he  had  been  introduced  to  them  all 
before.  They  told  their  names  again,  but  he  mixed 
them  all  up  and  blushed  like  a  girl ;  evidently 
wasn't  used  to  visitors. 

"  Our  boys  were  extremely  deferential ;  felt  it  a 
great  honor  to  call  on  him,  a  distinguished  stranger, 
hoped  he  liked  the  place,  and  so  forth.  That  had 
a  calming  effect.  He  put  on  a  few  frills  then,  and 
praised  the  town,  and  the  college  buildings,  and  the 
campus. 

"  They  asked  him  if  he  meant  to  stay  here  long. 


16  PAULINE   WYMAN. 

He  said  he  '  hadn't  decided.'  The  boys  saw  through 
that ;  he  would  leave  if  he  didn't  like.  We  could 
get  rid  of  him  as  easy  as  rolling  off  a  log.  So  they 
grew  vejy  polite,  hoped  he  would  conclude  to  re- 
main a  good  while ;  but,  anyway,  he  must  join  our 
secret  society  known  far  and  wide  as  the  '  English 
Rose.'  He  had  probably  heard  of  it  ? 

"  He  hesitated  and  stammered,  but  finally  owned 
up  that  he  hadn't.  Being  fresh  from  the  Prov- 
inces, there  were  things  going  on  in  the  States 
of  which  he  was  still  ignorant.  The  boys  excused 
him  on  that  plea.  But  he  ought  to  know  that 
this  society  was  peculiarly  adapted  to  his  case. 
All  the  members  were  Britishers  at  heart ;  indeed, 
it  had  got  its  first  start  from  a  noted  Englishman 
over  here,  who  wanted  to  put  down  the  Irish  ele- 
ment in  politics." 

"  Why,  Jim  Wyman !  " 

"  Oh,  just  a  joke,  Paul.  And  he  is  such  an  out- 
rageous fool !  Nothing  would  make  him  happier, 
he  said,  than  to  join  such  a  society,  for  he  was 
getting  a  little  homesick.  Would  he  meet  any 
members  from  England  ?  Oh,  yes,  Lord  Fol  de  rol 
and  somebody  else.  Fiske  made  up  two  or  three 
names,  and  Blythe  swore  to  them. 

"  Wishart  decided  that  he  must  join  the  society. 
The  boys  said,  very  well,  they'd  take  him  in  the 
very  next  evening. 

" '  So  soon  ? '  said  he.  And  then  he  demurred, 
and  remembered  that  his  spectacles  were  in  Bos- 
ton being  mended.  He  should  get  them  back 


"THE   ENGLISH   ROSE."  17 

day  after  to-morrow,  and  then  would  be  most 
happy  to  become  an  English  Rose. 

"The  boys  thought  this  was  peculiar;  didn't 
see  what  spectacles  had  to  do  with  roses,  anyway ; 
told  him  we  couldn't  wait, — you  see  we  didn't 
dare  to !  We  always  initiated  our  members  in 
April,  just  such  a  time  of  the  moon." 

"Jim,  why,  Jim!" 

"  That  fetched  him.  He  appeared  to  us  last 
evening,  at  eight  sharp,  in  Deering  Hall.  We 
hadn't  had  time  to  mature  our  plans,  but  no  mat- 
ter. There  were  twenty-two  of  us  present  besides 
the  victim.  We  introduced  him  to  the  English 
Vice-Consul  and  some  other  dignitary  from  abroad, 
—very  gratifying,  —  and  gave  him  the  password, 
Popocatepetl.  Then  came  the  ceremony  of  bap- 
tism. You  needn't  look  so  shocked,  Paul ;  'twas 
just  a  libation  of  wine  poured  over  his  head  in 
the  name  of  Queen  Victoria.  You  ought  to  have 
seen  the  simpleton  stand  there,  with  his  hair  in 
soak,  and  promise  the  master  of  ceremonies,  John 
Blythe,  that  he  would  use  his  influence  against 
certain  Irish  leaders,  whose  names  John  read  over 
to  him. 

"  'Twas  awfully  funny ;  and  when  we  got  so 
tickled  we  couldn't  keep  our  faces  straight,  John 
would  call  out  in  a  solemn  voice,  'Blow,  ye  trum- 
pets, blow ! '  and  then  would  follow  a  racket  of 
tin  horns,  after  which  we  sang,  'God  save  the 
Queen.' " 

"Jamie,"  interposed  the  colonel,  "such  a  farce 
c 


18  PAULINE   WYMAN. 

was  downright  insulting  to  that  man,  a  perfect 
stranger !  " 

"  So  it  was,  uncle,  if  he  had  known  'twas  a 
farce;  but  the  joke  of  it  was  that  he  didn't;  he 
took  it  all  in  earnest  and  enjoyed  it.  There's 
about  as  much  fun  in  him  as  there  is  in  a  grave- 
digger's  spade." 

"We  hear  that  the  English  have  very  little 
sense  of  humor,"  said  Pauline.  "What  next?" 

"The  second  ceremony  was  a  symbolical  mar- 
riage. A  white  hood  was  pulled  down  over  his 
eyes,  and  he  was  married  spiritually  to  an  invisible 
bride,  Sister  Sacharissa.  He  took  it  all  so  seri- 
ously that  it  was  necessary  for  Blythe  to  call  out, 
'  Blow,  ye  trumpets,  blow ! '  with  the  screech-owl 
chorus,  '  God  save  the  Queen.'  " 

"  And  he  stood  all  that  ? " 

"  Certainly.  Those  dulcet  tones  seemed  to  melt 
him  almost  to  tears.  'Twas  simply  sublime,  and 
we  had  to  hurry  up  the  third  ordeal  before  we  were 
half  ready  for  it ;  'twas  death  by  the  axe. 

"  Dave  Smiley,  the  executioner,  in  a  white  wig 
and  black  suit,  led  Sacharissa's  late  husband  to  the 
scaffold.  Censers  of  incense  were  slowly  waved, 
—  pepsin  gum  and  pennyroyal. 

"  But  there  was  a  break.  Smiley  was  to  cover 
the  victim's  head  and  face  with  a  black  cap,  but 
when  he  tried  to  pull  down  the  cap  it  wasn't  nearly 
big  enough,  wouldn't  cover  even  the  eyes. 

"  This  was  embarrassing.  We  hadn't  intended 
he  should  see  himself  killed ;  it's  not  customary  on 


"THE   ENGLISH    ROSE."  19 

the  scaffold.  But  there  he  was,  his  head  lowered 
on  a  block ;  the  axe  was  raised  in  air,  Blythe  said, 
'  Here  will  I  spill  thy  soul ! '  and  Wishart  looked 
right  up  at  the  axe.  His  fingers  were  joined  at 
the  tips  like  a  statue  in  Westminster  Abbey,  and 
there  he  lay  and  stared  at  Smiley.  Smiley  ought 
to  have  stopped,  but  as  the  victim  seemed  to  expect 
something,  he  kept  on  swinging  the  axe." 

"  What  an  anti-climax !  I  know  you  laughed 
then,"  said  Pauline. 

"  Not  exactly ;  but  we  blew  the  horns  pretty 
loud.  And  that  gave  Blythe  time  to  think  what 
next.  So  while  the  axe  was  swinging  he  came 
forward  and  sang :  — 

"  'God  save  our  good  Queen  Vic, 

The  Prince  also, 
With  all  loyal  subjects 

Both  high  and  both  low, 
Except  the  dead  subjects 

With  heads  off,  you  know, 
Which  nobody  can  deny.' 

"  Then  the  chorus  struck  up,  '  Brother,  arise ! ' 
But,  if  you'll  believe  it,  that  idiot  never  stirred.  He 
had  turned  over  a  little  on  one  side  and  closed  his 
eyes,  and  seemed  as  if  he  were  going  to  take  a  nap. 

"  'Twas  too  much  for  Blythe,  and  he  just  as- 
sisted him  slightly  with  his  boot. 

"  '  Pardon  me,'  says  Wishart,  getting  up  very  de- 
liberately, '  but  this  is  so  soothing  ! ' 

"John  thinks  he  had  really  been  asleep. 


20  PAULINE   WYMAN. 

" '  Am  I  now  an  English  Rose  ? '  he  asked. 

" '  No,'  says  John,  on  the  spur  of  the  moment,  — 
and  that's  where  he  made  a  mistake,  — '  only  a 
rosebud.  'Twill  require  time  and  patience  on  our 
part  to  blow  you  out ! ' 

"  As  if  we  hadn't  finished  him  up !  John  was 
sorry  enough  when  he  stopped  to  think;  but  it 
couldn't  be  helped. 

"  I  spoke  up  then,  and  said  there  was  more  to 
follow,  but  we  hadn't  the  proper  tools  to  work  with ; 
must  adjourn  till  Friday." 

"  But  he's  dead,  which  nobody  can  deny.  What 
can  you  do  with  a  dead  man,  Jim  ? " 

"  That's  it,  what  can  we  do  ?  Blythe  says  you 
must  help  us  out,  Paul,  and  that's  why  I've  told 
this  yarn.  He  says  you're  keener  witted  than  any 
of  us." 

"  Oh,  fie,"  said  Pauline,  blushing.  "  I  can't  think 
how  to  help  you ;  but,  as  he's  dead,  couldn't  you 
take  him  into  the  world  of  spirits,  across  the  river 
Styx,  or  something  like  that?" 

"  Maybe  we  could,  Paul.  I'll  mention  it.  Wish- 
art  is  full  of  curiosity ;  thinks  it's  a  genuine 
secret  society,  and  is  so  grateful  for  knowing  the 
vice-consul  and  other  celebrities.  He's  right  on 
their  track  to-day ;  gives  'em  no  peace.  And  the 
password,  Popocatepetl,  if  he  meets  any  of  us  he 
has  it  over,  and  looks  perfectly  delighted." 

"  How  stupid  !  But  won't  he  be  angry  when  he 
finds  you  out  ? " 

"Yes,  there's   the   trouble.      He   has   so  little 


"THE   ENGLISH   ROSE."  21 

sense  that  he  may  complain  at  headquarters.  Do 
you  suppose  he  would,  Uncle  Ike  ?  You  haven't 
said  a  word." 

"Well,"  replied  the  colonel,  slowly,  "he  might, 
if  he's  the  fool  you  make  him  out  to  be.  But  is 
he  a  fool  ?  That  remains  to  be  proved." 

"  Why,  Uncle  Ike,  what  else  can  he  be  ?  I  sup- 
pose he's  up  on  Greek  and  Latin,  but  as  for  what 
you  call  '  horse  sense '  he  hasn't  got  it.  You  can 
see  for  yourself  how  childish  he  acted,  more  child- 
ish than  our  Dan." 

"  Don't  you  dare  to  compare  him  to  Dan,"  cried 
Pauline.  "  Dan  has  sense.  But  come,  Jim,  we 
ought  to  go  home.  I'm  ashamed  of  having  left 
mother  so  long  with  all  the  work  to  do.  I  never 
thought  of  staying  like  this." 

"  Do  you  think  your  folks  would  like  one  of  my 
caramel  custards  for  tea?"  said  Uncle  Ike,  point- 
ing to  a  covered  tin  pail  which  sat  beside  him  on 
the  doorstone.  "  I  made  one  this  morning,  and 
was  about  to  take  it  over  to  your  house  when  you 
came." 

"Uncle  Ike,"  exclaimed  Pauline,  "we  enjoy 
your  custards  so  much  and,  indeed,  everything 
you  make.  We  call  you  the  prince  of  cooks." 

The  colonel  doffed  his  cap  with  a  formal  bow. 

"Let  me  have  the  pail,  please,"  said  Pauline. 
"  I  can  carry  it  and  not  spill  a  drop." 

"  Can  you  ?  Well,  that's  clever  !  Now,  Jamie, 
I  shall  want  to  hear  how  your  English  Rose 
blossoms  out." 


22  PAULINE   WYMAN. 

"You  shall,  Uncle  Ike;  but  I'm  afraid  'twill 
blight  on  the  stem !  " 

And  the  young  people  said  good-by  and  wheeled 
away  laughing. 


III. 

A    DISCLOSURE. 

WHEN  they  reached  home,  Pauline  ran  lightly 
into  the  kitchen.  There  was  an  odor  of  vanilla, 
and  Mrs.  Wyman,  with  the  baby  tugging  at  her 
skirts,  was  stirring  pudding-sauce  on  the  stove. 

"  O  mamma,  I  did  not  think  of  staying  away 
like  this  !  I'll  take  up  the  vegetables." 

There  was  no  answer,  and  looking  at  her  mother 
Pauline  fancied  she  was  stealthily  wiping  her  eyes. 
Mother  in  tears  ?  How  extraordinary !  What 
could  it  mean  ? 

Silently,  but  with  a  sudden  sinking  of  the  heart, 
the  young  girl  hastened  to  assist  in  preparing  the 
dinner.  She  could  not  recollect  more  than  a  half- 
dozen  times  in  her  life  when  she  had  seen  her 
mother  weep,  and  then  on  very  grave  occasions. 
Surely  nothing  could  have  gone  wrong  in  the 
family  ?  Father  was  calmly  reading,  —  Pauline  had 
seen  him  through  the  half-open  door  of  his  study 
as  she  came  in ;  the  boys  were  uproariously  well, 
and  little  Arthur  was  practising  a  somersault  in 
the  dining-room.  In  all  the  town,  Pauline  could 
not  think  of  any  one  alarmingly  ill  or  in  especial 
trouble.  Had  something  wounded  her  mother's 
feelings  ? 

23 


24  PAULINE   WYMAN. 

Was  it  possible,  —  and  a  sob  arose  in  the  girl's 
throat, — just  possible  that  she  had  been  grieving 
over  the  thoughtlessness  and  unkindness  of  her 
only  daughter  ? 

"  O  wee  !  O  wee  !  How  I  neglect  her,  just  be- 
cause she  is  the  tenderest,  sweetest  mother  in  all 
the  world,  and  loves  me  so  !  " 

The  dinner  was  apparently  a  cheerful  meal.  If 
Mrs.  Wyman's  eyelids  were  suspiciously  pink,  no 
one  seemed  to  observe  it.  Mr.  Wyman  chatted 
delightfully ;  it  was'  always  a  liberal  education  to 
hear  his  table-talk.  To-day,  however,  Pauline  for 
one  did  not  hear  a  word  he  said  about  Charles  II. 
and  the  Quakers,  or  care  in  the  least  what  became 
of  the  redoubtable  William  Penn. 

After  the  meal  was  over,  she  insisted  on  wash- 
ing the  dishes  without  help,  while  her  mother  lay 
down  for  a  rest.  Later,  when  the  house  was  in 
order  for  the  afternoon,  and  Mrs.  Wyman,  looking 
greatly  refreshed,  had  seated  herself  at  her  mend- 
ing-basket in  the  sitting-room,  Pauline  drew  up  her 
chair  to  her  mother's  side,  saying  to  herself,  — 

"  Now  that  we  are  alone  together,  I  must  speak !  " 

She  caught  up  a  stocking,  and  made  a  vigorous 
onslaught  upon  the  heel  with  her  darning  needle. 

"  O  mother,  mother,  can  you  forgive  me  ? " 
Mrs.  Wyman  had  hardly  time  to  look  up  in  sur- 
prise, before  the  gray  stocking  was  flung  upon  the 
floor,  the  ball  rolling  after  it,  and  Pauline's  two 
arms  were  about  her  neck. 

"  To  think  I  should  have  let  you  work  so  hard, 


A  DISCLOSURE.  25 

while  I  was  taking  my  ease  !  Not  to-day  only, 
but  every  day.  It  hurt  me  so  this  noon  to  see 
you  grieving  about  it,  mother ;  for,  really  and  truly, 
I  do  have  a  heart  of  some  sort  wrapped  up  in  a 
napkin  somewhere." 

The  ready  tears  sprang  to  Mrs.  Wyman's  eyes, 
as  she  returned  her  daughter's  embrace. 

"  My  precious  girl,  I  am  quite  as  much  to  blame 
as  yourself.  I  ought  to  speak  to  you  in  the  im- 
perative mood,  and  keep  you  up  to  your  duty.  But, 
Pauline,"  —  here  the  loving  voice  faltered,  —  "  that 
is  not  what  is  troubling  me  to-day ;  far  from  it." 

"I'm  —  I  was  going  to  say  glad ;  but  if  it's  some- 
thing worse  —  Are  you  willing  to  tell  me  what  it 
is,  mother  ? " 

Mrs.  Wyman  hesitated,  gently  pushed  Pauline 
from  her,  and  looked  at  her  searchingly. 

"  You're  too  young  and  tender,  dear.  It  seems 
cruel  to  burden  you  with  a  woman's  trials." 

"  I'm  tougher  than  you  think.    Try  me,  mother." 

"  I'm  half  inclined  to.  The  question  is  whether 
it's  best.  I  will  not  deny,  my  child,  that  it  would 
be  a  relief  and  comfort  if  I  could  talk  to  you  freely 
of  our  affairs." 

"  Oh,  do,  please,  mother.  I'd  so  like  to  hear  of 
our  affairs,  only  I'm  afraid  you'll  find  me  rather 
dull." 

Mrs.  Wyman  looked  as  if  she  thought  this  alto- 
gether probable.  She  hesitated  again. 

"  If  I  had  a  sister,  she  should  share  my  burden, 
not  my  little  daughter." 


26  PAULINE   WYMAN. 

"  Let  me  be  your  sister,  then,  as  the  young 
ladies  say  to  their  lovers.  Do,  mamma,  let  me 
be  your  sister." 

There  was  so  much  good  cheer  in  the  girl's  face 
and  voice  and  manner  that  Mrs.  Wyman  said, — 

"  So  I  will.  Well,  then,  dear  sister,  to  begin 
with,  I've  no  family  jars  to  tell  you  of.  I'm  one 
of  the  happiest  wives  and  mothers  in  the  whole 
world." 

"Yes,  sister  Mary,  everybody  knows  that." 

"  And  all  my  trials  spring  from  one  cause,  the 
lack  of  money." 

"  There,  I'm  so  relieved.  It's  no  disgrace  to  be 
poor.  Is  that  all  your  trouble,  sister  Mary  ?  Is 
that  really  all  ? " 

There  was  a  flickering  smile  around  the  cor- 
ners of  Mrs.  Wyman's  mouth.  How  far  was 
this  simple  child  from  appreciating  the  financial 
straits  of  the  family !  Was  it  worth  while  to 
attempt  to  make  her  comprehend  ? 

"  Pauline,  the  lack  of  money  is  not  a  grief.  It 
does  not  wring  the  heart  like  the  loss  of  friends ; 
yet  I  must  tell  you  it  is  nevertheless  a  sore  trial. 
Think  of  not  knowing  just  where  the  money  is  to 
come  from  for  food  and  clothes !  " 

"Why,  mother,  I  never  thought  of  it  like  that. 
I  supposed  it  always  came,  only  sometimes  you 
had  to  wait  a  while.  Not  know!  What  does 
father  say  about  it  ?  Isn't  he  frightened  ?  " 

Pauline  herself  had  a  startled  look.  Her  gray 
"thinking  eyes"  were  larger  than  ever. 


A  DISCLOSURE.  27 

"Your  father  does  not  say  or  think  so  much 
about  it  as  I  could  wish,  my  dear.  He  is  not 
what  is  called  a  practical  person." 

"  Now  I  should  know  •  that,  mother,  without 
your  telling  me.  A  man  who  brings  up  his  chil- 
dren on  Chaucer  and  Shakespeare!  I'm  glad  he 
does  it,  though.  He  enjoys  all  the  rare,  beautiful 
things,  and  ignores  the  common  things." 

Here  Master  Danville  burst  into  the  room  on 
an  errand  to  his  sister,  and  had  to  be  sent  out 
again  as  an  interruption. 

"Still,  common  things  have  to  be  attended  to," 
resumed  Pauline,  with  an  experienced  air.  "I 
think  I'm  like  father  in  wanting  to  forget  them. 
But  if  you'll  only  keep  speaking  to  me  in  the 
imperative  mood,  mother,  I'll  try  hard  to  reform." 

"I  must,  I  will,"  replied  Mrs.  Wyman,  kissing 
the  anxious  little  wrinkle  which  had  appeared  in 
the  girl's  forehead. 

"  Now,  mother,  we've  been  poor  always ;  it's 
nothing  new,  so  I'd  like  to  know  why  you've 
thought  of  it  to-day  more  than  usual.  That  is, 
if  you  choose  to  tell." 

"  I'm  wondering  whether  you  could  understand, 
dear.  Do  you  know  what  is  meant  in  law  by  the 
term  '  bondsman  '  ?  " 

"  A  slave,"  replied  Pauline,  confidently. 

"Not  quite  so  bad  as  that,"  laughed  Mrs. 
Wyman.  "  A  man  becomes  a  bondsman  when  he 
puts  his  name  to  a  friend's  note,  promising  to  pay 
the  note  if  the  friend  cannot  pay  it." 


28  PAULINE   WYMAN. 

"  How  absurd !  A  man  ought  to  be  ashamed  to 
let  another  person  pay  his  debts." 

"  So  I  think ;  but  your  generous  father  has  helped 
many  people  in  that  way.  And  to-day  when  Mr. 
Lyford  came  and  begged  him  to  sign  his  name  for 
him,  he  could  not  refuse.  This  makes  me  unhappy, 
for  I  have  little  confidence  in  the  Ly fords." 

"Was  it  that  man  from  West  Mills,  with  the 
squeaky  voice  and  red  face  ?  Is  my  father  a  bond- 
slave to  that  man  ? " 

"  Bond-slave  is  a  forcible  word,"  laughed  Mrs. 
Wyman  again.  "  Still  I  must  admit  that  your  father 
has  put  himself  in  Mr.  Lyford's  power.  Such 
things  done  again  and  again  alarm  me.  Pauline, 
we  might  be  in  comfortable  circumstances  now  if 
your  father  had  been  —  a  little  different." 

She  checked  herself  and  added, — 

"  It's  an  excess  of  benevolence.  His  motives 
are  good  always." 

"Yes,  mother,  I  know.  He  couldn't  have  a 
wrong  motive ;  it  isn't  in  him." 

"  But  what  concerns  me  just  now,  Pauline,  is 
that  we  must  retrench  in  some  way,  and  I  hardly 
see  how." 

Pauline  reflected  a  moment. 

"I  can  get  along  without  a  new  dress  this  sum- 
mer." 

"You  really  need  one,  my  daughter.  More 
than  that,"  added  Mrs.  Wyman  to  herself,  "James 
needs  a  new  suit." 

"  But,  mother,  I  might  freshen  up  that  pretty 


A  DISCLOSURE.  29 

pongee  myself ;  you  said  I  did  well  with  the  blue 
serge.  And  then  there's  another  thing*'  she 
added  with  evident  reluctance.  "  We've  talked  of 
Vassar,  but  that  is  only  a  dream." 

"  Oh,  my  daughter,  it  is  my  dream  as  well  as 
yours." 

"  Well,  let  us  be  practical,  sister  Mary ;  Vassar 
is  excluded.  What  we  want  to  talk  about  now  is 
ways  and  means  ;  wasn't  that  what  you  said  ?  " 

It  was  very  quiet  in  the  room  for  some  minutes. 
Pauline  was  darning  a  stocking  carefully,  but  her 
thoughts  were  elsewhere.  What  should  she  do  in 
this  emergency  ?  The  desire  for  self-sacrifice  was 
strong  upon  her,  and  she  had  half  resolved  on  a 
bread  and  water  diet  for  the  rest  of  her  days,  when 
it  occurred  to  her  that  there  must  be  a  better  means 
than  semi-starvation  of  serving  her  family.  What 
if  she  should  try  to  earn  money  ?  She  looked  up  at 
last  eagerly. 

"  Mother,  I've  been  trying  my  best  to  think  of 
ways  to  economize,  but  it's  all  so  new  to  me.  May 
I  ask  you  first  why  you  never  have  Roxy  Rix  now- 
adays to  help  in  the  kitchen  ?  " 

Mrs.  Wyman  drew  a  discouraged  sigh.  This 
childish  question  coming  just  now  showed,  as  she 
thought,  that  Pauline  really  could  not  be  made  to 
take  in  the  situation. 

"  Are  you  tired  of  having  Roxy  chatter  so  much  ? 
Was  that  why  you  gave  her  up  ?  " 

"  No,  dear ;  we  simply  could  not  afford  to  keep 
her." 


30  PAULINE   WYMAN. 

And  with  an  air  of  dismissing  the  subject  Mrs. 
Wym'an  folded  a  mended  garment,  and  laid  it  with 
others  on  a  chair. 

"  I  only  wished  to  know,  mother,  if  you  would 
like  to  have  her  again  if  you  could." 

"Yes." 

"Another  thing,  mother.  Should  you  say  I've 
got  by  the  half-way  age  ?  " 

"  I  should  say  you  are  considerably  under  seven. 
Can't  you  see,  my  daughter,  that  these  foolish 
questions  have  no  bearing  whatever  upon  the 
case  ? " 

"  Oh,  but  they  have,  mother,  if  you'll  only  hear 
me  through.  Are  you  willing  to  let  me  teach 
school  this  summer  ?  That's  what  is  in  my  mind. 
I  want  to  teach  school." 

"You  couldn't.     No  one  would  take  you." 

"Perhaps  not.  But  if  somebody  would,  —  I'm 
supposing  a  case,  —  if  somebody  wanted  me, 
would  you  let  me  try  it  ? " 

Pauline's  cheeks  were  flushed,  her  eyes  un- 
usually bright 

"  So  this  is  what  you've  been  leading  up  to  ? 
Well,  I  will  say  in  reply  that  I  wouldn't  mind 
your  teaching  kindergarten,  but  you've  no  train- 
ing for  it." 

"  No ;  and  there  are  two  kindergarten  teachers 
in  this  town  already.  Mother,  what  I  mean  is  a 
public  school,  one  of  those  back-country  district 
schools,  —  say  in  the  Johonnet  neighborhood." 

"  Yes,  my  child ;  in  any  part  of  this  town." 


A  DISCLOSURE.  31 

"  And  you  really  mean  it  ?  " 

"Certainly, — with  your  father's  consent." 

Mrs.  Wyman  spoke  wearily.  School-teaching 
was  impracticable  for  a  girl  like  Pauline,  —  so 
young  and  impulsive ;  why  discuss  it  ? 

"Well,  mother,  I've  finished  my  list  of  ques- 
tions; they  may  have  sounded  silly,  but  they 
seem  to  me  important.  And  now,  if  you  don't 
mind,  I  think  I'll  run  out  for  a  little  while,"  said 
Pauline,  rolling  up  another  pair  of  stockings. 
"  There's  an  errand  I've  thought  of. 

"  But,  dear  mother,  I'm  glad  you've  talked  to 
me  in  this  way.  I  shall  lay  it  to  heart ;  and  who 
knows  but  something  may  come  of  it?  Oh,  my 
dear,  precious  mother, 

" '  What  I  hae  done  for  lack  o1  wit 
I  never,  never  can  reca',' " 

she  added,  with  a  tearful  embrace,  and,  without 
waiting  for  a  reply,  ran  quickly  away. 

On  the  upper  landing,  she  was  overtaken  by  little 
Arthur,  who  begged  for  a  nickel  to  buy  some  candy. 
To  his  surprise,  she  replied  severely,  — 

"  A  nickel,  Arthur  Wyman  ?  I  can't  spare  it. 
I've  done  wrong  to  spare  you  so  many.  I  hope 
I  shall  be  forgiven !  It's  a  dreadful  thing,  your 
buying  candy  in  this  way  Saturdays ;  it  must  be 
stopped !  I  tell  you,  Artie,  we  are  poor !  " 

With  this  crushing  remark,  she  entered  her  own 
room  and  closed  the  door.  The  little  brother  felt 
himself  plunged  into  financial  difficulties  far  be- 


32  PAULINE  WYMAN. 

yond  his  depth,  and  could  only  stare  after  her  in 
tearful  dismay.  Pauline's  room  was  her  castle, 
into  which  no  one  but  the  irresponsible  baby 
ever  ventured  without  leave. 

Pauline  was  very  proud  of  her  room  with  its 
snowy  draperies,  fine  engravings,  and  other  dainty 
appointments.  In  one  corner  was  her  "sacra- 
rium,"  so-called,  where  she  kept  her  Bible  and 
prayer-book,  and  the  illuminated  maxims  of  Saint 
Theresa,  and  where  she  did  the  most  of  her  solid 
thinking. 

In  this  corner  at  the  north  was  a  little,  round 
window,  though  why  it  was  ever  put  there  nobody 
knew,  —  "one  of  old  Major  Wyman's  notions," 
probably ;  but  it  looked  out  on  the  mountains, 
and  was  Pauline's  delight. 

"  I've  come  up  to  this  sacrarium  to  have  a  little 
talk  with  you,  Pauline  Wyman,"  said  she,  squaring 
her  shoulders. 

"  You've  been  about  as  useful  as  a  woolly  cater- 
pillar, but  now  I  propose  that  you  turn  about  — 
even   a   worm   will   turn  —  and    help    your   poor 
wronged  mother. 

"  There's  the  Johonnet  school ;  Mr.  Bart  Bemis 
is  the  agent.  Beard  the  lion  in  his  den ;  let  him 
bite  your  head  off  if  he  will.  But  whether  you 
get  the  school  or  not,  you'll  have  Mrs.  Roxy  Rix 
here  to  help  your  mother.  You  know  how  it  can 
be  done.  Mrs.  Rix  is  adorning  her  parlors,  and 
there's  a  piece  of  furniture  in  this  room  which  she 
particularly  admires ;  do  you  hear  ? 


A  DISCLOSURE.  33 

"  She  would  take  this  article  instead  of  money 
for  her  wages.  Don't  pretend  you  don't  know 
it,  Pauline  Wyman !  " 

As  she  spoke  she  was  standing  before  a  beauti- 
ful inlaid  cabinet  writing-desk,  her  father's  gift  on 
her  last  birthday,  and  probably  her  choicest  pos- 
session. 

"  I  need  you  and  Mrs.  Rix  doesn't.  I  presume 
that  woman  hardly  ever  writes  a  letter,  and  when 
she  does  she  copies  from  a  slate.  But  that's  no 
affair  of  ours ;  she'll  be  willing  to  work  all  summer 
to  get  you.  I  give  you  up  from  this  moment.  I 
know  this  is  right  because  it  hurts  me  so ! 

"  Don't  stand  there  on  four  legs,  you  dear  thing, 
appealing  to  me  like  some  lovely  dumb  creature. 
Go  you  must.  I  have  said  it." 

She  seized  her  hat  and  put  it  on  as  she  ran,  not 
daring  to  look  in  the  mirror,  for  it  faced  the  desk. 

"  Good-by,  mother ;  I'm  off  on  my  borrowed 
wheel,"  she  called  out,  as  she  fared  gayly  forth 
down  the  street. 

"  The  sweet  girl !  What  wild  scheme  has  she 
in  her  head,  now  ? "  thought  Mrs.  Wyman,  still  a 
little  puzzled.  "  Well,  I'm  not  sorry  I  talked  with 
her.  Her  irrelevant  remarks  were  rather  discour- 
aging, but  I  believe  she  is  gradually  taking  in  the 
situation.  Once  set  Pauline  to  thinking  and  she 
thinks  to  some  purpose." 

D 


IV. 

UNCLE   IKE   AND   ROXY. 

"  I  BELIEVE  I'll  talk  it  over  with  Uncle  Ike," 
thought  Pauline. 

Whatever  her  destination,  all  roads  seemed  to 
lead  to  the  old  brick  cottage.  Uncle  Ike  had  been 
off  for  a  tramp  in  the  woods, — lame  though  he 
was,  he  was  a  great  walker,  —  and  now,  after  a 
late  dinner,  he  stood  on  his  back  porch,  shaking 
crumbs  out  of  a  newspaper,  to  the  delight  of  a 
brood  of  doves  gathered  about  his  feet. 

Pauline  knew  that  the  newspaper  had  served 
him  as  a  sort  of  literary  tablecloth.  He  enjoyed 
his  meals  better,  he  said,  when  well  seasoned  with 
the  news  of  the  day.  He  might  have  spread  his 
table  with  fine  fringed  linen,  which  lay  yellowing 
in  the  sideboard  drawers,  only  he  had  sentimental 
scruples  against  using  it,  and  besides  linen  requires 
laundering,  and  economy  was  always  an  object  with 
the  colonel. 

"  Come  in,"  said  he,  as  he  folded  the  newspaper 
neatly  and  laid  it  on  the  porch  step,  ready  for 
Jenny  Alden,  who  would  call  presently  and  take  it 
to  her  grandfather. 

Pauline  followed  the  old  gentleman  into  the 
kitchen,  the  cat  and  dog  at  her  heels. 

"  Mayn't  I  help  you  wash  the  dishes,  Uncle 
34 


UNCLE   IKE   AND   ROXY.  35 

Ike  ? "  she  asked,  as  he  took  out  a  tiny  pan  from 
under  the  table.  Sometimes  he  washed  his  dishes 
in  the  yellow  mixing  bowl,  but  just  now  that  was 
full  of  sour  milk.  He  usually  wiped  them  on  a 
piece  of  blue  and  white  gingham  or  the  remains  of 
a  flour  bag,  and  always  set  them  away  wherever 
most  convenient,  —  now  and  then  on  the  cupboard 
shelves,  oftener  in  a  basket  under  the  stove. 

There  was  a  charm  for  him  in  having  to  hunt  for 
things.  If  things  are  always  in  fixed  particular 
places,  where,  pray,  is  the  interest  and  excitement 
of  doing  your  work  ?  The  colonel's  housekeeping 
was  full  of  experiments  and  surprises  and  kept 
him  well  entertained. 

"There,  you  poor  man,"  said  Pauline,  as  she 
removed  a  spotless  linen  rag  from  a  line  of  string 
behind  the  stove,  "  everything  is  so  exquisitely  clean 
here,  but  you  do  need  a  cup  towel.  I'll  bring  you 
one  to-morrow.  Old  bachelors  have  such  droll 
things  to  work  with  !  " 

"  I  was  married  once,"  was  the  quiet  reply. 

"  Oh,  I  beg  your  pardon ;  I  knew  that,  but  I 
hardly  ever  think  of  it." 

"  I  dare  say."  The  tone  was  still  quiet,  and  Paul- 
ine lamented  her  thoughtlessness. 

"  This  is  the  house  where  I  brought  my  Margaret 
as  a  bride,"  said  he,  waving  his  dishcloth  toward 
the  parlor.  "The  tiled  fireplace  was  built  for  her; 
all  the  things  about  here  were  hers,  —  mountain-view 
and  all,"  he  added  with  a  wistful,  lingering  gaze  out 
of  the  window. 


36  PAULINE  WYMAN. 

"  And  you  had  children,  Uncle  Ike  ?  " 

"Two,  a  boy  and  a  girl.  Maybe  we  were  too 
happy  for  earth,  and  that  was  why  the  good  Lord 
chose  to  separate  us.  At  any  rate,  my  family  have 
all  gone  before  me  into  '  that  world  of  light.' " 

"  Dear  Uncle  Ike,  how  hard  for  you !  " 

"Well,  when  my  wife  and  boy  died  within  ten 
days  of  each  other  it  broke  me  up,  there's  no  deny- 
ing it.  I  went  into  the  army,  lost  my  health,  came 
back  to  this  house,  —  'twas  the  only  home  I  knew, 
and  'twas  near  your  family ;  and  here  I've  lived 
ever  since.  It  does  make  one  a  little  queer  to  live 
alone;  but  you'll  have  to  excuse  my  ways." 

"  Dear  Uncle  Ike,"  said  Pauline  in  a  low  voice, 
her  eyes  filling. 

"  And  now  let  me  hear  what  you  have  to  say,  my 
little  maid.  I  see  there's  something  weighing  upon 
you." 

Pauline,  thus  adjured,  unburdened  her  mind  in 
the  most  impassioned  manner,  dwelling  especially 
upon  her  father's  condition  of  "  bondage  "  to  cer- 
tain dreadful  men  who  expected  him  to  pay  their 
debts. 

Uncle  Ike  listened  with  absorbed  attention, 
though  he  had  known  all  this  and  deplored  it  for 
many  a  day. 

"  But  don't  fret  about  Lyford,  Pauline.  I  happen 
to  hold  a  mortgage  on  his  place,  so  he  can't  harm 
you.  And  I  shall  have  a  face  to  scold  your  father, 
and  make  him  promise  never  to  sign  his  name 
again  for  such  poor  sticks." 


UNCLE   IKE  AND   ROXY.  37 

"  Oh,  do,  Uncle  Ike  !  Mother  will  be  so  glad. 
She  thinks  father's  a  poor  financier." 

"  So  am  I,  my  child.  I've  no  head  for  finance, 
but  I  do  understand  economy ;  won't  throw  away 
money;  won't  run  in  debt." 

When  the  plan  of  teaching  was  revealed,  Uncle 
Ike  exclaimed,  "  Well,  that's  clever !  I  like  that !  " 

"  But  I'm  afraid  Mr.  Bemis  '11  laugh  at  me,  and 
say  I'm  too  young." 

"  If  he  laughs  at  you,  send  him  to  me.  I'll  tell 
him  you've  been  babied  too  much,  but  you're  get- 
ting out  of  leading-strings  now,  and  there's  the 
making  of  a  noble  woman  in  you,  and  'twill  be  a 
lucky  school  that  gets  Miss  Pauline  Wyman  for 
teacher." 

"  Oh,  Uncle  Ike !  " 

"  What  does  Jamie  say  to  it  ? " 

"  He  doesn't  know  of  it    I  haven't  told  him  yet." 

"  Well,  I  don't  wonder.  Jamie  wouldn't  take  it 
in,  would  he  ?  He  hasn't  waked  up  to  life  yet. 
Boys  are  slower  than  girls.  The  way  he  treated 
that  Englishman,  now !  I've  got  to  lecture  him 
about  that.  Jamie's  very  immature." 

"And,  you  know,  Uncle  Ike,  you've  been  such 
a  wonderful  godfather  to  Jim,  that  he  hasn't  had 
to  think  of  money  matters  at  all."  Pauline's  voice 
quivered  a  little.  "  He's  provided  for,  whatever 
happens." 

"While  I  live  and  get  my  pension,  yes.  But 
he'll  come  to  the  fore,  by-and-by.  He  may  be  a 
little  slow,  but  Jamie  will  come  to  the  fore." 


38  PAULINE  WYMAN. 

"  Do  you  believe  I  can  get  the  school  ?  I  want 
it;  but  it  scares  me  to  death  to  think  of  the 
scholars." 

"You'll  get  the  school,  lassie,  and  I'll  tell  you 
just  how  you'll  manage  those  scholars.  You  won't 
storm  'em  like  a  general  taking  a  fort,  —  they 
wouldn't  stand  that  from  a  little  girl  of  your  age. 
You'll  walk  into  the  schoolroom  looking  just  as 
you  do  now,  and  they'll  like  you  for  not  putting 
on  airs.  And  presently  they'll  learn  to  love  you," 
—  '  how  can  they  help  it  ? '  he.  wanted  to  add,  — 
"and  when  they  love  you,  the  thing  is  done!" 

And  the  colonel  hung  up  the  gingham  rag  with 
an  air  of  finality. 

Pauline  left  Uncle  Ike  with  a  feeling  of  uplift- 
edness,  and  wheeled  away  to  call  upon  her  old 
friend,  Mrs.  Roxy  Rix. 

"  Now  if  I  only  had  Eva  Hallett  to  talk  it  over 
with  !  But  I'm  sure  Eva  would  see  it  just  as  I  do. 
Something  must  be  done  to  help  our  family,  and  I 
feel  like  the  Norseman  with  the  pickaxe,  '  Either 
I'll  find  a  way,  or  I'll  make  it ! ' ' 

It  was  a  lovely  country  ride  along  Roaring 
Brook,  through  an  avenue  of  dark  pines  and  bud- 
ding maples,  with  many  a  white  birch  here  and 
there, — that  graceful  "lady  of  the  woods."  But 
Pauline  had  little  thought  to-day  for  scenery,  and 
hardly  noted  the  red  "boxberries"  dotting  the 
roadside,  or  the  white  bloodroots  hugging  their 
thick  green  cloaks  about  their  necks. 

A  wheelman  was  approaching.  She  knew  him 
at  once  for  the  English  Rose. 


UNCLE   IKE   AND   ROXY.  39 

"  What  a  courtly  bow  he  made,  and  how  slowly 
he  put  his  hat  on  again.  I  call  that  truly  respect- 
ful. Who  would  ever  dream  of  his  being  such  an 
idiot?" 

And  she  smiled  as  she  thought  how  he  had  gone 
to  sleep  under  the  full  swing  of  an  axe.  He  did 
not  look  like  "  that  sort."  She  was  still  smiling  as 
she  reached  Mrs.  Rix's  patriotic  fence  of  red,  white, 
and  blue,  and  dismounted  by  the  gate. 

The  house  was  of  the  cheap,  pretentious  sort 
called  a  "  shingle  palace,"  painted  a  rich  Jersey 
cream,  and  adorned  with  showy  rococo  finish  or 
"gingerbread  work."  A  woman  of  majestic  mien 
stood  in  a  baby's  high  chair,  training  a  vine  above 
the  lattice-work  of  the  front  door. 

"Why,  Paulina,  Miss  Paulina,"  she  exclaimed, 
and  the  next  moment  was  standing  on  the  door- 
stone  shaking  hands  warmly. 

"  Dear  child,  I'm  awful  glad  to  see  you.  Come 
right  into  the  house.  No,  you  ain't  disturbing  me 
a  mite.  I  was  only  training  this  wild  cucumber 
vine  over  the  teftts-work,  and  it's  all  done.  Walk 
right  in." 

Pauline  entered  the  parlor,  gorgeous  with  flowery 
tidies,  patchwork  cushions,  and  other  trophies  of  art. 

"Set  down  in  this  red  velvet  chair,"  —  a  proud 
emphasis  on  "velvet," — "and  I'll  be  back  as  soon 
as  I've  put  in  my  teeth." 

When  Mrs.  Rix  reappeared,  it  was  with  a 
broad  smile  which  displayed  the  handiwork  of  her 
dentist  to  the  fullest  extent. 


40  PAULINE   WYMAN. 

"  Ain't  you  glad  for  me,  Paulina  ?  You  remem- 
ber how  I  used  to  suffer  at  your  house  with  tooth- 
ache, but  now  I've  parted  with  'em;  and  I  tell 
you  it's  a  satisfaction  to  take  these  new  ones  out 
nights,  and  set  'em  on  the  bureau  and  see  'em 
ache." 

Pauline  laughed  and  praised  the  new  teeth,  and 
said  to  herself  that  the  woman  would  be  fine- 
looking,  if  her  hair  and  eyes  were  not  mouse- 
color,  and  her  complexion  like  the  same  mouse 
bleached. 

"  Is  your  house-cleaning  done  ?  "  she  asked,  as  a 
prelude  to  her  errand. 

"  Oh,  yes.  I  don't  doddle  round  about  spring 
cleaning,  'thout  I'm  sent  for  in  sickness.  How's 
the  baby  ? " 

"  He  talks  a  good  deal.  When  I  was  leading 
him  downstairs  yesterday,  he  said,  '  Oo !  I  tumby 
down  'tairs,  I  de  —  ad  !  " 

"  I  hope  your  mother's  tol'able.     And  Danville, 

—  do  you  help  him  write  his  compositions,  same  as 
you  used  to  ? " 

"  Not  so  much." 

And  then  Pauline  returned  to  the  charge. 

"  I  suppose  you're  very  busy,  Mrs.  Rix,  as  you 
always  are  ? " 

"Well,  middlin'.  Not  partic'ly.  There's  noth- 
ing driving  me  now  but  two  rugs  and  a  silk  quilt, 

—  don't  you  think  I'm  fixing  up  pretty  cute  in  this 
room  ?  —  and  making  cake  and  such  for  the  hotel. 
I  tell  'em  I  feel  as  if  I've  nothing  to  do  since  Jane 


UNCLE   IKE   AND   ROXY.  41 

Dixon  and  her  husband  got  well,  and  sister 
Cinthy's  so's  't  she  can  wait  on  herself." 

"  I'm  glad  your  sister  is  better." 

"Yes,  Cinthy  owns  up  to  being  better;  don't 
send  for  me  now  every  tack  an'  turn.  I  think 
"myself,"  added  Mrs.  Rix,  dropping  her  voice  con- 
fidentially as  if  revealing  a  family  secret,  "  I 
think  myself  it's  nerves  with  Cinthy." 

"  Do  you  really  ?  Well,  as  you're  not  obliged 
to  go  to  her  as  much  as  you  did  —  perhaps  you  —  " 

Pauline  could  get  no  further,  for  the  mouse- 
colored  eyes  —  very  shrewd  ones  they  were  — 
seemed  to  be  looking  her  through  and  through. 

"  Perhaps  what,  Miss  Paulina  ?  If  you've  got 
anything  to  say,  say  it.  You  know  I'd  be  dread- 
ful glad  to  oblige  you,  if  it's  so's  't  I  can." 

"Well,"  said  Pauline,  desperately,  beginning 
at  the  wrong  end  as  usual,  "  I  want  to  teach 
school ! " 

Both  Mrs.  Rix's  hands  went  up  in  surprise. 

"  Of  all  things !  You,  Paulina  ?  But  what  can 
I  do  about  that?  I  ain't  a  school-agent." 

"  I  wish  you  were,  Mrs.  Rix.  I  shouldn't  be 
as  afraid  of  you  as  I  am  of  Mr.  Bemis." 

"What,  Bumblebee?  That  little  school?  It's 
the  easiest  you  could  get,  sure  enough.  Only 
wouldn't  it  bother  you  to  make  the  children  mind, 
—  being  a  child  so  yourself  ? " 

This  was  rather  crushing,  but  Pauline  soon 
rallied  and  said  buoyantly, 

"  Isn't  it  high  time  I  should  be  a  woman  ? " 


42  PAULINE   WYMAN. 

Mrs.  Rix  gazed  at  her  in  admiration.  There 
was  unwonted  earnestness  in  the  girl's  manner, 
a  steady  resolve  in  her  face  which  arrested 
attention. 

"  Tears  to  have  waked  up  to  their  situation  ; 
wants  to  help  the  family.  Well,  well,  poor  little 
thing ! " 

"  Mother  says  I  may  ask  for  the  school,  but  I 
—  I  —  I  came  here  first  because  —  " 

"  Well,  go  on,  Miss  Paulina,  free  your  mind. 
If  you  can  get  the  school,  —  though  it's  'most  a 
doubt  if  you  can,  —  you'd  like  to  use  part  of  the 
money  to  hire  help  for  your  mother.  Is  that  it  ?  " 

"  No,  Mrs.  Rix,  not  money.  I'd  like  to  pay 
you  with  my  cabinet  writing-desk." 

"  Not  that  pretty  concern  your  pa  gave  you  ? " 

"Yes,  it's  mine  to  do  with  as  I  please.  You 
saw  it  when  it  was  brought  to  our  house,  and  you 
said  then  'twas  just  the  thing  you  wanted  to  put 
here  in  this  room  between  the  two  west  windows. 
Don't  you  remember  ?  " 

"  Did  I  ?  I  may  have  made  some  such  remark, 
for  I  always  did  think  a  handsome  writing-desk 
would  set  off  this  parlor  complete.  But  I  wouldn't 
rob  you  of  yours,  now  you'd  better  believe,"  said 
Aunt  Roxy,  with  a  misty  shine  in  her  eyes  like 
the  sun  drawing  water. 

"  But  if  I  want  you  to  have  it,  Mrs.  Rix,  —  if 
I  really  insist  ?  " 

Mrs.  Rix  smoothed  her  drab  hair,  and  regarded 
Pauline  with  increased  admiration. 


UNCLE   IKE   AND   ROXY.  43 

"  The  child  means  it.  You  can  kind  of  see  her 
thoughts  come  and  go  in  her  eyes.  There's  so 
much  more  meaning  to  big  eyes,  anyway.  And 
then  I  always  liked  blue-gray,  kind  of  streaked  in 
with  brown  —  no,  green  —  I  couldn't  have  got 
the  color  to  suit  me  any  better  if  I'd  dyed  'em 
myself." 

"  I'm  on  my  way  to  see  Mr.  Bemis,"  said  Paul- 
ine, in  a  business  tone,  feeling  no  further  embar- 
rassment now  that  her  subject  was  well  launched. 
"  That  is,  if  you'll  take  the  writing-desk  and  help 
mother  all  summer  while  I'm  teaching." 

"  Dear,  dear,  so  you  don't  allow  no  time  for 
reflection !  It's  now  or  never,  if  I  want  the 
desk.  '  Twould  look  nice,  though,  between  them 
windows." 

Pauline  viewed  the  oak-graining  which  might 
have  been  done  by  a  man  in  delirium  tremens,  and 
could  only  say,  "  The  desk  is  a  beauty,  Mrs.  Rix." 

"  So  it  is,  and  I  feel  mean  to  take  it  away  from 
you.  But  there  —  the  fact  is,  I  ain't  necessitated 
to  work  out  anywhere,  but  I  have  a  great  respect 
for  your  mother,  and  there's  nothing,  as  I  know  of, 
to  hinder  my  helping  her." 

"There,  I'm  so  glad!" 

"And  your  father, — well,  I  ain't  going  to  say 
what  he's  done  for  me.  I  don't  want  to  get  to 
crying !  Why,  Paulina,  when  my  husband  died,  — 
there,  hain't  I  told  you  all  that?" 

"  I  think  you  did  speak  of  a  mortgage." 

"  Yes,  and  I  shouldn't  have  kept  the  house  or 


44  PAULINE  WYMAN. 

had  a  cent  to  bless  myself  with  if  it  hadn't  a'  been 
—  Well,  well,  God  bless  Squire  Wyman,  that's  what 
I  always  say !  And  if  I  can  do  anything  for  him 
or  his  folks  —  But  as  for  that  desk  —  " 

"  How  much  is  it  worth  to  you,  Mrs.  Rix  ?  I 
mean  how  long  are  you  willing  to  work  for  it  ? " 

"While  your  school  lasts,  and  the  day  after. 
And  if  you  don't  get  the  school  I'll  go  all  the  same. 
But  now  be  off  if  you're  going  to  see  that  Bumble- 
bee before  dark.  There,  don't  stop  to  thank  me ; 
what  have  I  done  ?  And  don't  set  your  heart  on 
the  school ;  you  won't  get  it." 

As  Pauline  rode  away  Mrs.  Rix  gazed  after  her, 
musing  aloud,  a  habit  she  had  acquired  by  living 
alone. 

"  Ain't  she  a  picture,  though  ?  She's  coming  out 
strong  as  a  helper,  and  'tain't  so  much  matter  if  the 
squire  didn't  come  into  that  property." 

"What  property?"  asked  Pauline,  turning 
quickly  around. 

Mrs.  Rix's  face  flushed  a  muddy  pink.  "I  wa'n't 
talking  to  you.  The  Wyman  property  was  what 
I  meant,  though  —  Of  course  you've  heard  about 
that  ? " 

"Yes,  I  knew  there  was  some  property.  Old 
Major  Wyman  was  a  rich  man,  and  he  adopted 
my  grandfather." 

"Yes,  a  rich  old  bachelor.  Kind  of  queer, 
wasn't  it,  his  adopting  a  little  boy  out  of  kin,  and 
giving  him  his  own  name  so  ?  There,  you'd  better 
ride  along.  You  don't  want  to  be  out  late." 


UNCLE   IKE   AND   ROXY.  45 

"  But,  Mrs.  Rix,  my  grandfather  didn't  expect 
any  money,  did  he  ?  He  wasn't  any  relation  to 
that  old  bachelor  ?  " 

"Not  a  mite.  He  was  adopted  out  of  kin.  I 
just  said  so.  No  kin  at  all.  I  hope  you'll  find 
Mr.  Bemis  at  home. 

"  Well,  if  I  don't  beat  all  for  letting  cats  out  of 
bags,"  confided  Mrs.  Rix  to  the  beans,  as  she  re- 
viewed them  in  the  oven.  "  Who'd  have  thought 
the  child  could  have  grown  up  to  this  age  without 
hearing  about  that  will  ?  Hope  she  won't  ques- 
tion her  pa.  Poor  man !  I  never  heard  of  his 
saying  a  word.  But  if  some  other  folks  had  had  a 
conscience  as  tender  as  what  Squire  Wyman's  is, 
things  would  have  gone  very  different." 


V. 

BREAKING   IT   TO  JAMES. 

TEA  was  over  when  Pauline  reached  home,  and 
her  mother  was  just  leaving  the  dining-room  bear- 
ing a  tray  full  of  dishes. 

"  O  mother,  —  I  mean  sister  Mary,"  —  cried 
the  girl,  seizing  the  tray  and  setting  it  back  on 
the  table  with  a  clatter.  "Congratulate  me !  I've 
engaged  the  Johonnet  school !  " 

"Why,  Pauline!"  gasped  Mrs.  Wyman,  her 
utterance  rather  impeded  by  a  pair  of  young  arms 
tightly  embracing  her.  "I  never  meant  —  " 

"  O  mother,  I  was  so  frightened !  And  Mr. 
Bemis  was  just  beginning  to  laugh  at  me,  when 
Mr.  Greeley  walked  in,  the  institute  teacher.  He 
came  to  ask  about  grafting  apple  trees,  and  Mr. 
Bemis  said  to  him,  as  if  it  were  so  very  amusing, 
'  Here's  this  little  girl,  Mr.  Greeley,  thinks  she's 
big  enough  to  manage  our  district  school ! ' 

"  Fancy  it !  And  Mr.  Greeley  a  perfect  terror 
to  us  girls,  he's  so  supercilious  when  we  give  a 
wrong  declension.  But  what  did  he  do,  but  come 
forward  and  shake  hands  very  cordially  and  say,  — 

'"This  young  lady  has  been  a  most  satisfactory 
student.  And  lately  I  believe  she's  following  her 
brother  through  college.' 

46 


BREAKING   IT   TO  JAMES.  47 

"  I  had  to  correct  that,  of  course,  and  say  I  was 
only  following  Jim  in  a  few  studies,  just  a  few. 

"  '  Hear  that !  Isn't  that  her  father  all  over  ? ' 
said  Mr.  Bemis,  laughing  and  pounding  his  cane. 
As  if  my  father  were  superficial,  —  my  father  /" 

Mrs.  Wyman  saw  at  once  that  this  was  not  what 
Mr.  Bemis  had  meant.  It  was  simply  Pauline's 
crystal  truthfulness  that  had  reminded  him  of  her 
father;  but  she  let  the  girl  go  on. 

"  I  was  so  indignant  that  I  turned  to  leave ;  but 
Mr.  Bemis  stopped  me  and  said,  '  Look  up  here, 
little  girl,  let  me  see  what  kind  of  eyes  you've  got.' 

"  So  disrespectful !  So  impudent !  My  eyes 
must  have  '  worn  the  green '  then,  as  father 
says.  You  know  they  do  turn  green  when  I'm 
angry.  Mr.  Bemis  looked  at  me  about  half  a  min- 
ute, then  nodded  to  Mr.  Greeley  and  said,  '  She'll 
do;  she's  got  plenty  of  snap.' 

"  So  'twas  the  grit  that  settled  it.  I  had  half  a 
mind  to  say,  '  No,  thank  you,  I'll  not  have  your  old 
school,'  but  thought  better  of  it,  and  I'm  engaged 
for  the  fifteenth  of  May,  three  weeks  from  next 
Monday.  And  you,  honorable  mother,  please  don't 
mention  it  to-night  to  a  soul.  I  can't  have  Jim 
teasing  me  all  day  Sunday." 

"  No,  it  is  not  a  finality  yet  till  your  father  gives 
his  consent.  What  are  the  wages  ? " 

"  Really  and  truly,  mother,  I  was  so  scared  and 
dazed  that  I  never  asked  about  wages.  I  got 
away  as  fast  as  I  could." 

Mrs.  Wyman  restrained  a  smile. 


48  PAULINE   WYMAN. 

"  There,  not  another  word,  dear,  till  you've  had 
a  cup  of  chocolate.  You  look  very  tired." 

"  Mayn't  I  say  just  this,  mother  ?  Aunt  Roxy 
is  coming  here  to  help  you." 

Roxy  Rix !  It  was  a  name  to  conjure  with ! 
Mrs.  Wyman  was  sadly  overtasked,  and  in  dread 
of  breaking  down ;  and  now  the  mere  thought  of 
laying  her  household  cares  on  strong,  willing 
shoulders  was  an  unspeakable  relief. 

"  Roxy  Rix,  did  you  say  ?  We'll  talk  of  this 
to-morrow ;  but  now  let  me  thank  and  bless  you, 
my  daughter." 

And  that  night  Mrs.  Wyman  went  to  sleep 
feeling  a  new  sense  of  confidence  and  good-com- 
radeship in  this  woman-child  of  hers,  who  had 
grasped  the  situation,  and  come  forward  so 
promptly  as  helper. 

Mr.  Wyman  favored  Pauline's  project.  He 
wished  he  had  taught  school  himself  in  his  youth. 
There  was  nothing  like  teaching  for  giving  self- 
reliance,  and  she  would  succeed,  for  she  could 
depend  on  him  to  help  her  over  the  hard  places. 

A  week  passed  before  James  heard  of  the 
school.  Pauline  had  waited  for  a  favorable  mo- 
ment to  talk  with  him,  and  latterly  the  young  man 
had  seemed  decidedly  out  of  sorts. 

"Come  here,  Jim.  I  have  something  to  say," 
said  Pauline. 

It  was  Saturday  evening,  and  they  two  were 
alone  together  in  the  sitting-room.  James  turned, 
with  hand  on  the  door-knob,  and  regarded  her 


BREAKING   IT   TO  JAMES.  49 

as  she  sat  on  the  hassock  by  the  hearth,  her 
elbow  on  her  knee,  her  chin  on  her  hand,  with 
the  full  firelight  shining  into  her  face  and  into 
the  depths  of  her  large  lucent  eyes. 

"  By  George,  how  pretty  she  is,"  he  thought. 
"  Talk  of  a  fellow's  falling  in  love !  Some  girls 
are  handsomer  than  Paul,  but  taking  her  all 
around,  looks,  and  ways,  and  everything,  I  never 
saw  anybody  to  compare  with  her  —  well,  except 
Eva  Hallett,  perhaps." 

"  What  is  it,  Paul  ? "  he  asked,  settling  himself 
near  her  in  the  large  easy-chair. 

She  looked  up  in  his  face  searchingly.  "  I'm 
not  sure  I  shall  tell  you.  Your  mind  is  some- 
where else." 

"  No,  I  keep  it  around  with  me." 

"  Besides,  you  feel  cross,  Jim.  You've  been 
feeling  cross  for  two  or  three  days  and  haven't 
told  me  what's  the  matter." 

Pauline  had  been  having  one  of  her  "  insights," 
Jim  thought ;  but  he  only  said,  — 

"  Why  should  I  tell  you  when  you  didn't  ask  ?  " 

"  It's  the  English  Rose,"  said  Pauline,  her  eyes 
sweeping  her  brother's  face  again.  "  Last  night  was 
Friday,  the  time  for  you  to  finish  him  up,  and  I've 
been  longing  to  know  how  much  more  the  poor 
man  would  stand,  or  whether  he  would  say  he 
had  had  enough  of  it." 

"  Pooh,  I  rather  hoped  you  had  forgotten  the 
whole  business.  See  here,  Paul,  you  haven't 
mentioned  it  to  a  soul  ? " 


50  PAULINE   WYMAN. 

"  What  do  you  take  me  for,  Jim  ?  Am  I  one 
of  the  chattering  sort  ? " 

"  Well,  no,  you're  not,  that's  a  fact.  And  now 
I'll  have  to  tell  you  the  rest  of  it,  and  you  may 
tell  Uncle  Ike.  But,  mind,  it's  once  for  all,  and 
forever  after  hold  your  peace." 

He  was  twisting  himself  about  in  his  chair,  his 
face  undergoing  such  extraordinary  contortions 
that  Pauline  tried  to  help  him. 

"  I'll  tell  you  where  you  left  off,  Jim.  He  had 
lost  his  head  on  that  block,  which  nobody  can 
deny.  And  last  night  did  you  make  a  ghost  of 
him  ? " 

"  Well,  that  was  what  we  had  planned.  In- 
tended to  row  him  across  the  Styx — a  small 
woodpile  —  in  a  hammock,  Ned  Hallett  for 
Charon." 

"  I  see.  Was  the  English  Rose  as  cool  as 
ever?" 

"  Cool  ?  Oh,  yes,  only  we  didn't  take  him 
across." 

"Well,  now,  why  not?" 

"  Because  we  had  to  back  down,  that's  all ; 
we'd  mistaken  our  man." 

"Oh!" 

"He  had  been  fooling  us.     We  saw  it  Wednes- 
day when  he  began  to  teach.     Pauline,  he  isn't 
a    Latin  tutor,   he's  a  professor  of  chemistry,— 
a   full-fledged   professor,  with  a   Ph.D.    after   his 
name." 

"  Why,  Jim  !  " 


BREAKING   IT  TO   JAMES.  51 

"  I  tell  you  we  wanted  to  hide  our  heads  some- 
where. Why,  he's  as  dignified  as  Greeley." 

"  What,  that  chump,  as  you  called  him  ?  " 

"Yes;  and  for  all  his  looking  so  sleepy  and 
half-witted,  he  had  had  more  fun  out  of  his  initia- 
tion than  we  had,  twice  over." 

"  How  do  you  know  ?  " 

"  Well,  we  knew  the  moment  we  saw  him  with 
his  spectacles  on." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ? " 

"Why,  it's  a  bad  case  of  near-sightedness 
and  astigmatism.  I  told  you  he  had  broken  his 
glasses,  didn't  I  ?  Without  'em  he  can't  tell  a  hen 
from  a  harrow,  and  that  was  why  he  acted  so 
foolish." 

"  Is  it  possible  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  and  the  moment  he  got  'em  back  again 
he  spotted  us  undergrads,  let  me  tell  you ;  knows 
just  which  ones  were  in  the  scrape.  Ned  Hallett 
wishes  he  could  'sell  himself  for  a  yaller  dawg 
and  then  shoot  the  dawg.'  So  say  we  all  of  us." 

"Too  bad,"  said  Pauline;  "excuse  my  smiling. 
So  I  suppose  you  haven't  said  much  more  about 
the  secret  society  ? " 

"  Not  we  !  But  he  started  the  subject  himself 
yesterday  morning;  gave  John  Blythe  to  under- 
stand he  was  agonizing  to  become  a  full-blown 
Rose.  John  stammered  and  stuttered  ;  hoped  Pro- 
fessor Wishart  would  forgive  the  disrespect,  and 
all  that  sort  of  thing." 

"  What  did  the  man  say  ?  " 


52  PAULINE   WYMAN. 

"  That's  the  best  part  of  it.  He  couldn't  speak 
at  first  for  laughing.  You  see  he's  only  twenty- 
five  or  so,  and  John  says  you  never  heard  such  a 
hearty  laugher.  And  then  he  asked  John  if  we 
had  composed  the  rest  of  the  play.  He  thought 
we  were  pretty  good  in  low  comedy,  for  he  nearly 
broke  a  bloodvessel  trying  to  preserve  proper 
decorum. 

" '  How  dared  you  boys  attack  me  in  that  way,' 
said  he,  '  a  perfect  stranger  to  you  ? ' 

"  But  he  didn't  seem  at  all  offended.  He's  one 
of  the  kind  that  can  take  a  joke." 

"  Well,  now,  I  noticed,  myself,  that  he  had  a 
twinkle  in  his  eyes,  Jim." 

"  A  twinkle  ?  Why,  I  tell  you,  before  he  got 
his  glasses,  his  eyes  hadn't  any  more  twinkle  than 
a  grindstone." 

"  But  he  had  his  glasses  on  when  we  met  him, 
last  Saturday  morning." 

"  Did  he  ?     Why  didn't  you  tell  me  ? " 

"  And  that  afternoon  I  met  him  again  on  the 
blind  road." 

"  Oh,  then,  you  were  the  one  he  inquired  about. 
He  told  Ned  Hallett  he  met  a  girl  on  a  wheel. 
Well,  it's  of  no  consequence  what  else  he  said." 

"Yes,  it  is.  You'll  have  to  tell  me,  word  for 
word." 

"  Well,  if  you  must  know,"  laughed  James,  "  he 
said  she  was  a  sylph !  Ned  said  he  hadn't  the 
least  acquaintance  with  sylphs  himself,  but  he'd 
warrant  the  girl  was  Pauline  Wyman.  I  told  Ned 


BREAKING   IT   TO   JAMES.  53 

I  knew  better ;  you  hadn't  been  wheeling  on  that 
road,  or  I  should  have  known  it." 

"  But  I  did  go  there  last  Saturday,"  returned 
Pauline,  still  blushing,  as  she  thought  of  the  young 
Englishman's  compliment.  "  I  went  there,  and 
I'll  tell  you  why  in  a  minute.  But  that  horrid  ini- 
tiation, Jim !  You  certainly  ran  a  great  risk,  and 
I'm  glad  you  got  off  as  well  as  you  did.  Are  you 
going  to  like  the  new  professor  ? " 

"  Famously.  Only  we  wouldn't  have  the  rose- 
story  leak  out  for  the  world.  Wishart  is  a  person 
you  feel  rather  particular  about.  He  might  not 
stand  it.  But  what  were  you  doing  on  the  blind 
road  ? " 

Pauline  did  not  reply  at  once.  It  was  not 
easy  for  her  to  tell  of  the  Johonnet  school.  Her 
brother,  unlike  most  girls'  brothers,  was  inclined 
to  approve  of  her,  whatever  she  might  say  or  do ; 
still  he  was  capable  of  sarcasm. 

"  Teach  school  ?  You,  Pauly  Wyman  ?  "  he  ex- 
claimed when  the  story  was  told.  "  Teach  school, 
a  girl  of  your  age  ?  I  never  mistrusted  things  had 
gone  so  low  with  our  family.  Somebody  ought  to 
have  told  me." 

There  was  no  irony  here,  no  jesting.  James 
was  plainly  disturbed. 

"  I  thought  you  and  I  were  bound  to  have  an 
education.  That's  what  father  always  said.  How 
came  we  so  poor  all  at  once  ?  But  if  either  of  us 
has  got  to  break  off  and  earn  money,  I'm  the  one. 
I'm  the  oldest  and  I'm  a  man !  " 


54  PAULINE  WYMAN. 

"  No,  Jim,  I've  talked  it  all  over  with  father  and 
mother.  You  are  to  graduate  and  study  law,  and 
there's  Uncle  Ike  to  help  you.  I'm  only  a  girl,  it's 
no  matter  about  me.  I  won't  say  I  think  it's  quite 
fair,  for  I  don't,  but  it's  so." 

"  Now,  Paul !  " 

"Well,  isn't  it  so?  Isn't  a  boy  the  first  to  be 
considered  ?  Doesn't  a  girl  take  what's  left  ? " 

"  Pooh,  Paul,  I  want  to  argue  with  you  about 
that." 

"  Not  now,  Jim.  I'm  in  a  lovely  frame  of  mind, 
to  be  sure,  but  you  know  I'm  apt  to  fly  off.  I 
can't  stand  being  talked  to." 

"  Polly,  O  Polly ! "  called  Dan  from  the  hall, 
"I've  been  looking  and  looking  for  you.  Come 
into  the  dining-room,  please." 

"  What  do  you  want  of  me  ? " 

"I  want  —  well,  how  do  you  pronounce  Iphige- 
nta?" 

"  Just  as  you  do,  sir.  You  pronounced  it  prop- 
erly ;  accent  on  next  to  the  last  syllable.  You 
didn't  race  all  over  the  house  to  ask  me  that  ques- 
tion, Dan.  There's  something  else." 

Evidently  there  was,  but  he  only  whistled  for 
answer. 

"  Come  in  here,  you  little  hypocrite,"  said  Jim. 
"  You've  got  a  piece  to  speak,  I'll  warrant.  Come, 
you  needn't  be  afraid  of  me." 

"  Don't  you  make  fun  of  me,  then,"  returned 
Dan,  hanging  back,  but  finally  entering  the  room 
slowly. 


BREAKING   IT  TO   JAMES.  55 

"  It's  our  debating  society.  Pauline  likes  to 
have  me  rehearse  to  her,  you  know.  Question  is, 
'  Which  has  been  more  useful  in  the  world,  man  or 
woman  ? '  I'm  on  the  man's  side." 

"Of  course,"  said  Pauline. 

"That's  where  they  put  me,"  said  Danville, 
apologetically,  with  a  furtive  glance  at  James.  "  I 
thought  I  should  say,  Who  invented  the  steam- 
boat, the  telegraph,  the  telephone,  and  all  the 
other  things  ?  It's  men,  don't  you  know  ? " 

"No,  Paul  says  it's  women,"  corrected  Jim. 
"  That  is,  women  would  do  it  if  you'd  give  'em  an 
education ! " 

Danville  went  on  unheeding,  in  a  drawling  tone, 
"  Who  built  the  cathedrals  and  towers  and  the 
other  stunning  big  buildings  ?  It's  men.  How 
would  a  woman  look  carrying  mortar  ? " 

Here  Dan  struck  an  attitude  and  clutched  the 
legs  of  his  trousers.  "  She  would  have  to  hold  up 
her  train." 

The  audience  laughed. 

"  Does  a  woman  raise  armies,  fight  battles  ?  No, 
she  screams  at  sight  of  a  gun. 

"  Finally,  my  friends,  where  would  America  be 
to-day  if  a  man  hadn't  discovered  it?  What  if 
we'd  sat  down  and  waited  for  a  woman  to  come 
along  and  discover  it  ?  " 

Here  he  dropped  his  voice  to  a  falsetto.  "  Did 
you  ever  hear  of  a  woman's  cruising  round  to  dis- 
cover things  ?  Naw  !  She'd  be  afraid  of  getting 
tanned!  It  takes  a  man,  don't  you  know?" 


56  PAULINE   WYMAN. 

By  this  time  Dan's  audience  was  in  a  state  of 
merriment,  and  the  orator  retired,  saying,  — 

"  Well,  I  can  make  up  a  lot  more  of  that  kind  of 
stuff,  Polly.  Of  course  they  want  me  to  make  'em 
laugh." 

"  What  a  little  monkey  he  is  ! "  said  James,  "  the 
clown  of  his  class.  But  there's  always  point  to  his 
speeches." 

"  Y-e-s.  I'd  like  to  hear  him  on  the  other  side 
of  the  question,  though  ;  there's  enough  to  be  said, 
only  'twould  take  a  woman,  don't  you  know  ? " 

"  Don't  go  to  being  cross,  Paul.  Let's  go  back 
to  where  we  left  off.  What's  all  this  fuss  about  ? 
What  made  us  so  poor  all  at  once  ?  " 

"  It's  not  all  at  once ;  it  has  been  growing  upon 
us,  Jim,  only  I've  just  found  it  out,  and  now  it's  my 
duty  to  help.  Think  how  many  girls  support  their 
families  entirely.  I've  been  counting  them  over. 
There's  Jenny  Blake  and  Susan  Mills  and  — 

"  Old  maids,  good  gracious  !  " 

James  sprang  up  from  his  chair  again,  and 
paced  the  floor. 

"  Do  you  want  to  make  an  old  maid  of  your- 
self, Pauline  Wyman  ?  " 

Pauline  laughed  brightly. 

"  I  never  dreamed  of  such  a  thing !  I'm  going 
to  be  married  when  I  get  around  to  it.  I  wouldn't 
not  be  married  on  any  account.  Why,  what  an 
idea!" 

Jim,  apparently  much  relieved,  caught  her  up 
and  waltzed  her  around  the  room. 


BREAKING   IT   TO  JAMES.  57 

"  How  you  ever  thought  of  teaching,  —  a  girl 
with  no  dignity  whatever !  They'll  turn  you  out 
for  laughing.  As  for  father's  being  in  difficulties, 
why,  it's  simply  the  hard  times.  It  will  soon 
blow  over." 

This  was  a  new  view  of  the  matter.  Pauline 
had  not  thought  of  the  hard  times,  —  neither 
perhaps  had  her  mother,  —  but  how  easily  and 
naturally  the  situation  of  the  family  was  now 
explained !  And,  reflecting  upon  the  transitory 
nature  of  hard  times,  Pauline's  spirits  rose  with 
a  bound. 

"Well,  if  it's  going  to  blow  over,  the  sooner 
the  better.  By  the  way,  Jim,  did  you  ever  hear 
that  we  ought  to  have  had  some  money  fall  to 
us,  —  the  Wyman  money?" 

"  I've  heard  something  about  it.  Grandfather 
Wyman  —  his  real  name  was  Curtis  —  was  adopted 
by  a  rich  man,  and  ought  to  have  had  a  fortune, 
—  only  somehow  he  didn't." 

"  And  why  didn't  he  ?  I  mean  to  talk  to  Uncle 
Ike  about  it,  Jim.  He  can  tell  us  who  got  that 
money." 

"  Suppose  he  can,  what  good  would  it  do  us  to 
know  ?  I  don't  want  to  know.  See  here,  that 
miserable  little  school  of  yours  isn't  even  graded. 
They  are  Farmer  Waybacks  out  there." 

"  I  know  it.  It's  an  obscure  little  district  tucked 
away  in  the  northwest  corner  of  the  town.  I  sup- 
pose my  scholars  think  the  earth  is  flat,  and  George 
Washington  is  President  of  the  United  States. 


58  PAULINE   WYMAN. 

Have  you  anything  more  to  say  ?  If  the  lecture 
is  over,  we  may  as  well  close  with  music." 

And,  running  across  to  the  piano,  Pauline  struck 
up  a  Scotch  song,  her  father's  favorite,  —  "The 
Bonnets  of  Bonny  Dundee." 

She  was  thankful  that  the  worst  was  over,  and 
Jim  had  not  laughed  at  her. 


VI. 

THE    LITTLE   TEACHER. 

PAULINE  had  been  teaching  a  week.  Friday 
evening  had  come,  and  the  whole  Wyman  house- 
hold was  sighing  as  one  man  to  behold  her  again. 

"  I  see  her,"  called  out  little  Arthur,  who  had 
been  stationed  on  duty  for  half  an  hour  at  one 
of  the  rainbow  windows.  "  I  see  her  ever  so  far 
up  the  street  on  her  wheel." 

"  Mebbe  so,  mebbe  not ;  you  can't  tell  a  man 
from  a  horse  out  o'  them  windows,"  thought  Roxy 
Rix,  standing  by  the  kitchen  stove,  spoon  in  hand, 
ready  to  pour  her  waffle-batter  into  the  irons. 

And  now  out  rushed  the  whole  family,  and  Un- 
cle Ike  with  them,  to  welcome  the  little  teacher. 
James  thought  she  had  grown  a  year  older.  There 
was  a  double  allowance  of  starch  in  her  blouse- 
waist,  and  her  beautiful  wavy  hair  had  been  drawn 
severely  back  from  her  forehead  and  compressed 
into  an  extremely  hard  knot  at  the  very  top  of 
her  head.  This  innovation  she  considered  impor- 
tant and  as  carrying  distinction.  She  would  not 
commit  the  mistake  of  looking  young  if  she  could 
help  it. 

"  Oh,  I'm  so  glad,  so  glad  to  get  home,"  she 
cried,  laying  her  cheek  against  her  mother's.  "  I 
like  you  in  that  dainty  percale,  mother,  and  you 

59 


60  PAULINE   WYMAN. 

look  so  bright  and  happy.  Tell  me  you  feel  a 
little  rested ;  I  want  to  hear  you  say  it." 

"  Oh,  yes,  Pauline,  I've  had  nothing  else  to  do 
but  rest;  I'm  getting  very  idle." 

There  was  a  general  outcry  against  this  amaz- 
ing statement ;  .  but  when  it  came  out  on  the 
authority  of  Uncle  Ike  that  she  had  really  been 
"  tramping  "  in  the  woods  with  him  that  very  after- 
noon, Pauline  drew  a  long,  contented  breath.  It 
was  a  new  thing  for  mamma  to  take  a  tramp ! 

Father,  too,  seemed  in  fine  spirits.  He  was 
subject  at  intervals  to  attacks  of  depression  and 
comparative  silence. 

"  Now,  Miss,"  said  James,  as  they  surrounded 
the  tea-table,  "  we've  heard  a  flying  report  of  your 
being  turned  out  of  your  school,  and  we  want  to 
know  if  it's  true." 

"  It  has  only  been  threatened,"  replied  Pauline, 
laughing. 

"Tell  us  all  about  it,  my  daughter,"  said  Mr. 
Wyman  ;  "we're  all  waiting  to  hear." 

"  Well,  father,  to  tell  the  truth,  I  wish  I  could 
live  the  first  day  over  again ;  I  meant  to  act  my- 
self as  you  told  me,  Uncle  Ike,  but  when  I  entered 
the  schoolroom  myself  wasn't  there  !  I  was  some- 
body else.  Only  think,  there  were  thirty-seven 
children  in  that  schoolhouse  of  all  sorts  and  con- 
ditions. I  trembled  all  over ;  and  when  I  heard  a 
little  boy  say,  '  Ain't  she  a  whalin'  big  woman  ? 
What  '11  you  bet  I  can't  lift  her  with  one  hand  ? '  I 
wanted  to  run." 


THE   LITTLE   TEACHER.  61 

"  Stage  fright,  hey  ?  "  said  James. 

"  Next  thing  I  felt  myself  beginning  to  giggle ; 
but  one  of  the  girls  coughed  and  nodded  to  an- 
other girl,  and  that  saved  me.  I  put  my  foot 
down  hard  and  began  to  scowl.  I  remembered  I 
should  be  seventeen  years  old  next  October,  and 
was  I  going  to  be  coughed  down  by  a  girl  who 
probably  didn't  know  the  multiplication  table  ?  I 
scorned  them  and  took  my  blank  book-  and  pencil, 
and  marched  around  and  asked  their  names  in  a 
voice  sharp  enough  to  cut  you  in  two." 

It  may  be  mentioned  here  that  Pauline's  girlish 
voice  was  of  a  ringing  sweetness,  never  even  in 
her  scolding  moments  sharp. 

"  I  came  to  a  beautiful  boy  who  looked  like 
Dan,  and  before  I  thought  I  patted  him  on  the 
shoulder.  It  was  a  queer  thing  to  do  to  so  large 
a  boy,  and  he  laughed  and  the  boy  next  him 
laughed ;  but  when  I  shook  my  head  they  both 
stopped,  and  I  loved  them  from  that  moment. 

"They're  only  going  till  haying.  I'm  taking 
them  through  cube  root.  They  never  had  it  ex- 
plained to  them  before,  and  they're  so  grateful, 
poor  fellows.  I  shan't  have  any  trouble  with 
them  ;  boys  are  naturally  so  chivalrous." 

"  Yes,  when  they  like  the  looks  of  the  teacher," 
said  James,  with  a  knowing  nod  at  Uncle  Ike. 

"  They're  different  from  girls,  Jim.  Girls  of  the 
half-way  age  are  so  disagreeable.  I  remember 
how  I  used  to  act.  These  girls  thought  I  was  too 
young,  so  I  '  sugared  my  hair '  to  get  the  kinks 


62  PAULINE   WYMAN. 

out,  and  drew  it  up  to  a  peak.  Don't  you  think  it 
makes  me  look  older  ?  " 

"  It  makes  you  look  like  a  scarecrow  in  poor 
circumstances,"  replied  Jim,  with  brotherly  frank- 
ness. "  The  moment  tea  is  over,  do  you  hurry  up 
and  make  yourself  presentable,  for  there'll  be  sev- 
eral in  to  see  you." 

"  But  your  girl  scholars,  Pauline,"  said  Mrs. 
Wyman  anxiously,  "they've  not  been  insubordi- 
nate ? " 

"They  tried  to  be,  I  think,  mother,  just  a  little. 
I  suppose  I  began  rather  too  high  and  mighty,  but 
I  soon  saw  I  couldn't  hold  out  that  way,  and  stopped 
it  in  time,  and  remembered  what  you  said  about 
making  friends  with  the  older  girls." 

"That  is  sensible,  my  daughter." 

"  So  it's  all  right  now.  They  don't  respect  me 
as  I  wish  they  did,  but  they  like  me." 

"'Rah  for  you,  Paul,"  said  James.  "If  you've 
got  the  big  boys  and  big  girls  on  your  side  you're 
all  right." 

"  I  should  prefer  to  be  reverenced  and  looked 
up  to,"  said  the  young  girl,  wistfully ;  "  but  it's 
better  than  nothing  to  have  scholars  friendly. 
They're  going  to  help  me  in  all  sorts  of  ways. 
They  said  I  needn't  be  at  all  afraid;  they  like 
me  for  being  young  and  jolly,  and  want  to  make 
things  pleasant  for  me ;  they  came  and  said  this 
to  me  last  night,  Alice  Bemis  and  Clara  Lucas, 
and  they're  the  leaders." 

"  'Rah  !  "  cried  James,  again. 


THE   LITTLE   TEACHER.  63 

"  They  are  ashamed  to  think  how  they've  wasted 
their  time  and  tormented  their  teachers.  I  don't 
see  what  has  made  them  think  of  this  all  at  once, 
for  I  haven't  preached  to  them  at  all.  '  We  want 
now  to  learn,'  they  say;  'we  want  to  be  like  you 
village  girls,  Miss  Wyman.'  I  said  I'd  help  them 
with  all  my  might,  and  so  I  will." 

"  And  the  way  to  help  them,  my  daughter,  is  to 
give  them  an  impetus.  Don't  give  '  the  draught 
before  the  thirst,'  "  said  Mr.  Wyman ;  "  stimulate 
their  minds,  that's  the  first  thing." 

"  I  believe  she  has  caught  the  right  idea,"  re- 
marked Uncle  Ike,  thoughtfully.  "  It's  praising 
green  barley  to  say  Paulina  will  make  a  success  of 
her  school,  but  I  for  one  hold  that  opinion." 

Uncle  Ike  seldom  formed  hasty  judgments ;  his 
words  carried  weight,  and  every  one  rose  from  the 
tea-table  in  excellent  spirits. 

The  first  callers  that  evening  were  Victoria  Ray- 
mond and  Ned  Hallett.  Victoria  was  a  rich  and 
rather  haughty  girl,  not  a  favorite  with  Pauline. 

"  I'm  so  glad  to  see  you  again,  Pauline  dear," 
said  Victoria,  affably ;  "  but  what  did  possess  you 
to  take  that  odious  school  ?  " 

To  almost  any  one  else  Pauline  would  have  re- 
plied frankly,  "The  money;"  but  she  could  not 
say  this  to  Victoria,  who  would  not  have  under- 
stood. 

"  Oh,  there's  a  deal  of  fun  in  it,"  said  Pauline. 
"Wait  till  I  tell  you  about  it." 

The  parlor  was  filling  with  young  people  who 


64  PAULINE   WYMAN. 

all  wanted  to  hear  Pauline's  experiences  in  the 
suburbs,  but  it  was  a  surprise  when  Professor 
Wishart  entered,  known  to  a  certain  few  as  "  the 
English  Rose." 

To  say  the  truth,  Professor  Wishart  fully  shared 
in  this  surprise.  He  had  called  merely  to  finish 
out  a  conversation  with  Mr.  Wyman,  begun  some 
days  ago,  and  James,  meeting  him  as  he  emerged 
from  the  study,  had  inveigled  him  into  the  parlor. 

All  the  "  undergrads  "  who  had  been  concerned 
in  the  foolish  and  unprovoked  raid  upon  the  new 
professor  were  .trying  now  to  make  amends  by 
showing  him  every  possible  attention.  He  knew 
no  one  in  Eveleth  but  the  college  faculty,  all  old 
men,  and  must  find  it  dull,  they  thought. 

He  was  fond  of  music,  and  John  Blythe  had 
asked  him  to  his  own  house  to  hear  his  sister  Ada 
play,  Ada  being  quite  a  proficient.  Some  of  the 
others  had  given  him  drives,  and  he  was  spoken 
for  a  week  ahead  to  accompany  the  Hallett  family 
in  their  carriage  to  the  Great  Eddy  to  watch  the 
first  boat  race  of  the  season  between  "  Our  Nine  " 
and  the  Pelhams.  And  now  James  Wyman  had 
ushered  him  into  the  merry  circle  assembled  in  his 
mother's  parlor. 

Mrs.  Wyman  greeted  him  with  easy  cordiality. 
She  was  usually  present  when  James  and  Pauline 
entertained,  sitting  quietly  in  the  background,  it 
is  true,  yet  always  observant  and  appreciative,  and 
ready  with  any  needed  suggestion.  Professor 
Wishart  —  or  Mr.  Wishart,  as  he  chose  to  be 


THE   LITTLE   TEACHER.  65 

called  —  found  her  charming,  and  would  have  en- 
joyed a  quiet  chat  with  her  in  the  corner,  if  his 
attention  had  not  been  claimed  by  the  young 
people. 

He  seemed  at  first  a  little  restrained  and  ill  at 
ease.  He  liked  and  understood  boys  thoroughly, 
but  these  bright  American  girls  were  new  to  him. 
At  each  introduction  he  bowed  over  the  young 
lady's  hand  with  an  air  of  such  exalted  politeness, 
that  Ada  Blythe  remarked  aside  to  Pauline,  — 

"  He  seems  to  think  girls  belong  in  the  sky." 

"  Stiff  thing,"  responded  Pauline.  "  Give  me 
seven  sticks,  and  I'll  make  another  just  like  him." 

"  Notice  that  pink  pearl  ring  on  his  left  hand," 
said  Dolly  Stevens.  "  It  doesn't  seem  in  keeping 
with  his  ministerial  dignity." 

James  saw  with  satisfaction  that  Pauline  was 
looking  her  best.  In  a  pretty  gown,  with  her 
hair  released  from  durance  vile,  she  was  a  girl 
any  brother  might  be  proud  of. 

"  Not  as  handsome  as  Victoria  Raymond,"  ad- 
mitted James,  reluctantly,  "or  as  queenly.  But 
when  Paul  smiles  Tory  can't  hold  a  candle  to  her." 

The  charm  of  Pauline's  smile  was  admitted,  but 
not  understood.  Some  said,  like  Eva  Hallett,  that  it 
was  "the  heart  in  it;"  others,  like  Tory  Raymond, 
that  it  was  "  the  teeth."  I  am  inclined  to  give  the 
teeth  a  little  credit.  We  hear  of  expressive  eyes, 
mouth,  and  even  nose,  —  never  of  expressive  teeth. 
Yet  why  not  ?  Teeth  have  their  individuality. 
Pauline's,  though  small  and  white,  were  slightly 


66  PAULINE   WYMAN. 

irregular,  one  or  two  of  the  upper  ones  overlap- 
ping their  next  neighbor  a  wee  bit  in  a  "cuddly  " 
fashion,  confiding  and  affectionate.  It  was  con- 
ceded by  her  admirers,  that  while  Pauline  with 
her  mouth  closed  was  "  lovely,"  with  her  mouth 
open  she  was  "simply  adorable." 

Professor  Wishart  easily  recognized  her  as  the 
"  sylph  "  he  had  met  awheel ;  but  wondered  why 
she  should  be  put  to  the  drudgery  of  teaching. 

"  She  does  not  take  it  very  seriously,"  he  thought, 
observing  that  to  all  the  questions  asked  she  made 
playful  replies,  almost  with  an  air  of  laughing  at 
herself.  How  should  he  know  that  her  light  man- 
ner covered  the  deepest  earnestness  ? 

Pauline  was  a  girl  of  delicate  reserves,  who 
always  shrank  from  making  a  parade  of  her  emo- 
tions ;  nevertheless,  "  the  star  of  the  unconquered 
will  had  risen  in  her  breast,"  and  henceforth  her 
life  was  consecrated  to  work  and  duty. 

"And  you  really  mean  to  tell  us,  Pauline  Wyman, 
that  you  enjoy  being  shut  up  all  day  with  a  roomful 
of  noisy  children? "  asked  Tory  Raymond,  though 
Pauline  had  not  once  said  she  enjoyed  it.  "What 
do  you  do  with  them  when  they  are  naughty  ? " 

"  Well,  one  little  girl  I  pin  to  my  skirts  with  a 
safety  pin,  and  let  her  walk  the  floor  with  me," 
laughed  Pauline.  "  She  doesn't  mean  to  be 
naughty;  she  simply  can't  keep  still.  /  don't 
blame  her." 

"  Perhaps  you  would  say  with  Jean  Paul,  Miss 
Wyman,  '  Excuse  children  for  being  children.'  " 


THE   LITTLE   TEACHER.  67 

It  was  Mr.  Wishart  who  said  this  with  a  humor- 
ous smile. 

"  Did  Jean  Paul  say  that  ?  Then  he  knows  ! 
It's  downright  cruel  to  try  to  keep  the  little  things 
still,  —  so  unnatural !  There,  I  must  tell  you  how 
I  tried  to  teach  one  little  tot  the  points  of  the  com- 
pass. This  was  the  way  she  repeated  the  words 
after  me :  — 

" '  If  I  stand  with  my  right  hand  to  the  east  and 
my  left  hand  to  the  west,  my  back  will  be  in  front 
of  me  and  my  face  will  be  behind  me.' " 

"  Capital,"  said  John  Blythe.  "  I  can  seem  to 
see  her  a-twisting  a  twist.  Didn't  you  have  to  put 
your  face  behind  you  to  conceal  your  smiles  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  that's  the  worst  part  of  teaching,  John, 
—  or  I  find  it  so,  —  to  keep  from  laughing." 

"  Did  you  ever  succeed  ?  " 

"Now,  John  Blythe,  I'd  like  you  to  hear  some 
of  the  funny  things  I've  heard  from  those  chil- 
dren, and  see  what  would  become  of  you  !  Why, 
one  little  boy,  when  I  asked  him  what  was  remark- 
able about  Utah,  replied,  '  It  has  a  religious  insect 
called  Mormon  ! ' ' 

"  There,  Pauline  Wyman,"  cried  a  chorus  of 
voices,  "  I  know  you  laughed  then !  " 

"  Not  aloud,"  averred  Pauline.  Then,  on  reflec- 
tion and  self-examination,  she  added  meekly, — 

"That  is,  not  so  very  loud,  I  mean." 

Mr.  Wishart  chanced  just  then  to  look  towards 
Mrs.  Wyman,  and  they  involuntarily  smiled  at  each 
other  with  mutual  enjoyment  of  the  na'fvet^  of  the 


68  PAULINE   WYMAN. 

young  girl  who  stood  the  centre  of  an  admiring 
group. 

"  What  a  fresh-hearted,  unconscious  little  soul !  " 
thought  Mr.  Wishart.  "  If  my  sister  Edith  had 
lived,  I  fancy  she  might  have  been  like  that." 

Losing  both  parents  in  his  early  boyhood,  and 
his  only  sister  a  few  years  later,  Allan  Wishart  had 
grown  up  to  manhood  comparatively  homeless,  and 
almost  without  female  companionship.  His  friends 
complained  of  him  that  his  chief  interest  lay  in 
books  and  teaching ;  but  there  was  a  strong  social 
element  in  his  nature  which  had  lain  dormant,  sim- 
ply from  force  of  circumstances. 

He  had  intended  this  evening  to  get  back  very 
soon  to  his  room  and  his  work  ;  but  as  he  lingered, 
listening  to  Pauline's  guitar  and  the  duets  and 
solos  of  some  of  the  other  young  people,  he  became 
quite  absorbed  and  forgot  his  impatience  to  go. 

At  the  close  of  the  evening  he  assured  himself 
that  he  had  been  exceedingly  well  entertained,  and 
that  "  these  Wymans  were  far  and  away  the  most 
charming  people  he  had  met  in  America." 


VII. 

THE    BOAT    RACE. 

ON  Saturday  morning  of  the  following  week, 
Mrs.  Rix  was  busy  preparing  an  early  breakfast 
for  James,  who  was  going  to  the  boat  race. 

"  Is  that  you,  Cinthy  ? "  said  she,  as  a  discour- 
aged-looking woman  appeared  at  the  back  door. 
"  Set  down,  and  I'll  fetch  you  a  cup  of  coffee." 

Mrs.  Potter  seated  herself,  panting  and  sighing. 

"  I've  took  quite  a  walk  for  me.  Husband  was 
against  it,  but  I  got  a  lift  a  little  ways  in  John 
Gibbs's  cart,  and  Abner  Whitney'll  take  me  back 
about  ten  o'clock." 

"  I'm  glad  to  hear  that,"  said  Roxy.  Her  tone 
was  kind,  though  her  meaning  might  be  somewhat 
ambiguous. 

"  Fact  is,  Roxy,  I  wanted  to  see  if  you  wouldn't 
come  over  this  afternoon,  and  give  me  a  rum  sweat 
such  as  mother  used  to  take  ?  I  ain't  been  well  for 
some  days." 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say,  Cinthy,  you've  come  a 
matter  of  'most  two  miles  just  for  that?  " 

"Yes,  I  ain't  well,  got  cold  on  the  lungs,  and 
I  need  to  be  'tended  to.  And  I  thought  as  to-day 
was  Sat'day,  and  Pauline  to  home  —  " 

"  Well,  'taint  so's  't  I  can  go,"  said  Roxy,  with 
69 


70  PAULINE   WYMAN. 

decision.  "  The  family'll  be  off  to  the  boat  race, 
and  I  must  be  'round  to  see  to  Arthur  and  the 
baby.  I'll  go  to-morrer." 

"  To-morrer  may  be  too  late,"  returned  Cinthy, 
with  a  laborious  cough,  evolved  from  her  own 
inner  consciousness  of  coming  pneumonia. 

Roxy  smiled  behind  the  roller-towel.  Until 
quite  recently  she  had  been  easily  deceived  and 
alarmed  by  her  sister's  multifarious  ailments, 
treating  them  with  a  seriousness  which  gratified, 
while  it  really  injured,  the  patient ;  but  now  she 
was  learning  a  better  way  to  treat  "  Cinthy's 
hypo." 

"  Here's  your  coffee,  Cinthy.  Want  more 
cream  ?  Now,  I'll  bile  you  two  eggs.  You  want 
'em  hard  as  rocks,  I  s'pose  ? " 

"  Well,  I  need  something  to  stay  me,  coming  out 
so  early.  If  you'd  only  stayed  in  your  own  house  ! 
Well,  if  the  time  ever  comes  when  you  get  them 
Wymans  'tended  to,  I  hope  you'll  mention  it,  and 
then  mebbe  I  shall  have  somebody  to  look  to  in 
time  o'  need." 

Roxy  hardened  her  heart  as  she  set  the  eggs  to 
boil. 

"  I  ain't  sorry  I'm  here,  Cinthy.  I  feel  that 
I'm  filling  a  void  that  would  otherwise  be  vacant. 
And  it's  my  only  way  of  paying  back  the  Squire. 
What  that  man's  done  for  me  ain't  to  be  put  into 
words." 

"Ephraim's  jined  to  his  idols,"  said  Cinthy, 
plaintively.  "And  to  think  o'  your  coming  here 


THE   BOAT   RACE.  71 

when  you  always  said  so  much  against  the  'Pisco- 
pals,  Roxy ! " 

"  I  don't  like  the  Tiscopal  religion  any  better'n 
what  you  do ;  but  it  seems  to  work  in  this  family. 
They  ain't  always  on  the  jar  like  some  families. 
If  they  was,  I  wouldn't  stay.  But  here  comes 
Jim.  I've  got  to  hurry  up." 

Pauline  and  James  could  be  heard  talking  in 
the  dining-room. 

"  I  tell  you,  Paul,  as  the  time  draws  near  I 
begin  to  feel  a  little  shaky,  as  a  lawyer  does  after 
a  case  has  gone  to  the  jury.  Tell  me,  honestly, 
do  you  think  there's  any  doubt  of  the  Eveleths  ?  " 

"  How  can  there  be  ?  Why,  the  Pelhams 
haven't  half  the  muscle  or  half  the  pluck  of  our 
boys." 

"  No,  but  they've  had  fine  training  lately." 

"  It's  about  time.  Being  whipped  so  often  has 
frightened  them  into  that.  But  I'm  not  afraid 
of  them,  Jim." 

"  Nor  I,  Paul,"  said  James,  his  courage  rising. 

"  <  We  don't  want  to  fight, 

But,  by  jingo,  if  we  do, 
We've  got  the  men,  we've  got  the  boats, 
We've  got  the  muscle,  too.'  " 

"  I'm  glad  our  color  is  the  scarlet,  Jim.  The 
girls  are  coming  out  with  the  jauntiest  ribbons,  all 
but  —  " 

She  checked  herself.  It  was  not  certain  that 
Tory  Raymond  would  wear  the  green  for  the 


72  PAULINE   WYMAN. 

sake  of  Frank  Joslin,  a  Pelham.  This  was  merely 
a  rumor,  and  not  to  be  reported  to  Our  Nine,  who 
might  thereby  lose  heart. 

"It's  our  duty  to  keep  up  their  spirits,"  said 
the  loyal  Eveleth  girls. 

"Why,  Jim,  it  does  seem  as  if  the  muscle  in 
your  arm  had  hardened  within  a  week,"  pursued 
Pauline,  intent  on  imparting  encouragement. 
"There,  now,  let  go  my  wrist.  Do  you  think  I'm 
made  of  cast-iron  ?  Have  you  noticed  my  scarlet 
geranium  in  the  garden  ?  It's  precisely  our  shade. 
Yes,  and  I  shall  sacrifice  every  blossom.  One  for 
mother,  one  for  father,  a  buttonhole  bouquet  — 

"Good!  Stick  one  in  my  hair,  will  you?" 
James  despatched  his  breakfast  in  haste.  The 
contest  was  to  begin  at  10.30.  The  Pelhams  had 
come  seventy  miles  yesterday,  and  must  return  by 
afternoon  train. 

Willow  Nook,  above  the  Great  Eddy,  seemed  to 
have  been  created  expressly  as  a  waterway  for 
racing.  The  river  here  for  a  long  distance  was 
glassy  smooth,  and  sheltered  by  tall  trees,  while 
the  banks  on  either  side  had  excellent  foot-paths 
close  to  the  water's  edge. 

On  the  south  side  was  a  railway  track,  and  this 
morning  all  the  open  cars  that  could  be  begged 
and  borrowed  in  three  towns  were  running  on  it. 
Every  car  was  filled  with  people,  most  of  them 
"from  Pelham  way,"  and  wearing  green  favors, 
though  flames  of  scarlet  glowed  here  and  there 
along  the  line. 


THE   BOAT   RACE.  73 

On  the  north  side  of  the  river  the  foot-path 
back  of  the  trees  was  a  solid  mass  of  humanity ; 
but  these  were  Eveleth  people,  and  the  scarlet 
prevailed. 

"  It  looks  like  a  sea  of  blood,"  said  Pauline 
Wyman  to  Dolly  Stevens,  as  she  pinned  a  gera- 
nium on  the  girl's  shoulder.  "  Don't  you  like  a 
geranium  ?  It's  such  a  social  flower,  every  blos- 
som a  bouquet  in  itself."  She  spoke  with  re- 
strained excitement.  In  fifteen  minutes  the  race 
was  to  begin. 

"Oh,  dear,"  murmured  Ada  Blythe,  "we've 
always  said  the  Pelhams  weren't  worth  minding ; 
but  of  course  they're  on  their  mettle  to-day." 

"  So  are  our  boys,"  returned  Pauline,  ashamed 
of  her  sinking  heart. 

The  day  was  warm,  and  in  her  intensity  of  feel- 
ing her  naturally  vivid  color  had  deepened  per- 
ceptibly. Two  rude  young  girls  from  the  "rural 
districts "  watched  her  with  curiosity,  and  one 
whispered  to  the  other,  — 

"I've  heard  say  the  village  girls  painted.  Now 
look  at  that  one !  Didn't  she  lay  it  on  thick, 
though?" 

"  My  goodness !  "  was  the  reply.  "  I  s'pose  she 
thinks  'taint  noticed !  Guess  I'll  let  her  know 
some  folks  has  got  eyes." 

And  the  young  detective,  in  her  virtuous  wrath, 
drew  nearer  to  Pauline,  and  bore  testimony  against 
her  crime  by  spelling  in  loud  tones,  — 

"  P-a-i-n-t !  " 


74  PAULINE   WYMAN. 

Pauline  turned  about  as  the  explosive  sounds 
struck  her  ear,  but  was  too  bewildered  and  sur- 
prised at  first  to  resent  the  indignity.  Blanche 
Wood  spoke  for  her. 

"Take  out  your  handkerchief  at  once,"  she  bade 
the  rude  girl  loftily,  "  touch  it  to  this  young  lady's 
cheek,  and  see  if  the  color  comes  off." 

The  girl  shrank  back  frightened. 

"  I  command  you,"  repeated  Blanche.  "  Ah, 
you  are  the  sort  of  girl  that  doesn't  carry  a 
handkerchief !  Then  keep  away  from  respectable 
people." 

Both  the  back-country  damsels  suddenly  disap- 
peared in  the  crowd ;  whereupon  Pauline's  young 
friends  rallied  around  her  laughing,  though  at  the 
same  time  sympathetic  and  indignant. 

Professor  Wishart,  standing,  watch  in  hand,  a 
few  rods  distant,  saw  the  animated  group,  though 
he  could  not  hear  their  remarks,  and  said  to  him- 
self with  a  smile,  "  That  little  Wyman  girl  seems 
from  all  appearances  to  be  the  chief  star  around 
which  all  the  lesser  stars  circle." 

There  was  one  "  lesser  star  "  which  did  not  join 
the  circle,  indeed  had  always  tacitly  refused  to  do 
so.  This  was  Victoria  Raymond.  Victoria,  how- 
ever, did  not  acknowledge  herself  a  lesser  star. 
As  a  beauty  of  much  local  celebrity,  and  the 
daughter,  too,  of  a  merchant  prince,  she  naturally 
claimed  the  place  of  honor  herself,  and  "  wished 
to  be  informed  what  there  was  remarkable  about 
Pauline  Wyman.  She's  not  pretty  to  begin  with. 


THE    BOAT   RACE.  75 

Mouth  too  large,  and  no  complexion  at  all.  I 
don't  fancy  that  high  color  myself,  it's  plebeian." 
(Victoria  was  admired  for  her  creamy  pallor.) 
"And  her  utter  want  of  manner !  "  (Victoria  had 
undeniably  a  queenly  bearing.) 

On  this  particular  occasion  Victoria  was  strangely 
subdued  and  retiring.  No  one  could  see  whether 
she  wore  the  Pelham  color  or  not,  as  her  parasol 
was  carefully  poised  over  her  left  shoulder. 

"  I  thought  I  caught  a  glimpse  of  green,"  said 
Dolly  Stevens.  "If  she  wears  the  green,  let's 
cut  her  dead." 

"  No,  that  will  flatter  her ;  'twill  look  as  if  we 
cared,"  said  Pauline.  "  Hush,  they're  starting." 

Cheers  of  encouragement  were  rising  from  the 
populace,  "'Rah  for  Eveleth !  "  "'Rah  for  Pel- 
ham  !  "  mingling  in  one  refrain.  With  thrilling 
interest  hundreds  of  men  and  women  watched  the 
boats  cutting  the  water  like  knife-blades,  leaving 
a  silent  ripple  of  foam  in  their  wake,  while  the 
cheers  seemed  to  keep  time  with  the  oars. 

"  It's  a  close  start,"  cried  one  to  another.  And 
then  they  cheered  again,  but  not  so  loud;  they 
were  intent  on  watching  the  boats. 

Pauline's  heart  throbbed  high.  She  recognized 
distinctly  the  forms  and  faces  of  every  member 
of  Our  Nine,  James  being  stationed  in  the  middle. 
She  waved  an  eager  handkerchief  at  him,  and 
kept  waving  it  as  she  moved  on  with  the  throng. 

Why,  what  could  it  mean  ?  The  Pelhams  were 
shooting  ahead ! 


76  PAULINE   WYMAN. 

"  Really  and  truly  the  Eveleth  is  behind !  "  ex- 
claimed Pauline,  in  dismay. 

"  The  Eveleth  is  behind,"  echoed  Victoria,  in  a 
different  tone,  —  a  tone  of  exultation. 

Pauline  glanced  at  her  coldly.  In  waving  her 
parasol  Tory  had  exposed  her  left  shoulder ;  it 
was  guiltless  of  a  bow  of  any  sort.  Surely  she 
had  a  right  to  be  neutral. 

"The  Eveletk  is  more  than  a  length  behind," 
said  a  voice  in  the  crowd,  repeating  the  message 
from  some  one  further  on. 

"  Losing,"  cried  another  voice.  "  They're  pull- 
ing for  all  they're  worth,  but  they're  losing." 

Pauline  heard  with  fainting  heart.  The  boats 
were  too  far  in  the  distance  now  to  be  clearly  dis- 
cernible, but  if  the  Eveleth  had  fallen  behind,  it 
was  not  likely  to  better  itself  now,  for  the  Pelliam 
showed  no  sign  of  weakening. 

" '  On  what  meat  doth  this  our  Caesar  feed  that 
he  has  grown  so  great  ? '  "  said  she,  unable  to  for- 
give the  Pelhams  for  this  unexpected  display  of 
muscle.  Considering  how  puny  they  had  always 
been  regarded,  this  change  of  base  was  clearly 
dishonorable. 

There  was  comparative  silence  among  the  spec- 
tators, —  the  silence  of  restrained  emotion.  Sud- 
denly this  was  broken  by  the  shouts  of  the  crowd. 
The  winning  boat  was  nearing  the  goal. 

"  They're  just  as  ready  to  cheer  for  one  side  as 
the  other.  What  does  public  applause  signify  ?  " 
groaned  Pauline,  as  hats,  handkerchiefs,  and  flags 
rose  in  the  air. 


THE   BOAT  RACE.  77 

"  P-e-1,  pel,  h-a-m,  ham,  Pelham  !  "  was  now  the 
cry  of  victory. 

"  Everybody  has  forgotten  how  to  spell  Eveleth. 
Just  you  hear  that,"  said  Dolly  Stevens,  bitterly. 

"  Well,  'twouldn't  be  any  fun  if  we  could  always 
beat,"  returned  Pauline,  with  a  feeble  attempt  to 
be  philosophical.  "  Let's  hurry  on  and  comfort 
our  boys." 

Both  crews  had  landed  by  this  time,  and  were 
in  the  shady  distance,  making  a  change  of  toilet. 
Before  very  long,  they  were  mingling  with  the 
crowd  on  the  north  bank. 

It  must  be  said  of  the  Eveleths  that  they  bore 
themselves  with  a  proud  dignity  which  made  all 
efforts  to  comfort  them  quite  superfluous.  They 
were  in  high  spirits,  and  wished  it  understood  that 
in  their  case  "  an  overthrow  was  worth  many  vic- 
tories." They  enjoyed  the  novelty  of  it. 

James  had  seldom  carried  his  head  so  erect  or 
looked  so  manly,  and,  instead  of  pitying  him,  his 
mother  and  Pauline  both  said,  impulsively,  — 

"  I'm  proud  of  you,  James  !  " 

"  See  here,  girls,"  said  John  Blythe,  "  I  always 
knew  those  Pelhams  had  genius.  Do  you  remem- 
ber what  the  Irish  senator  said  in  his  first  speech  ? 
'If  you  see  a  spark  of  genius,  water  it.'  The  Pel- 
hams  have  had  water  enough  to-day  ;  their  genius 
is  all  ablaze !  " 

The  Pelhams  bore  their  honors  meekly. 

"  If  you  had  put  on  airs,  we  wouldn't  have  stood 
it,"  said  Pauline  to  Frank  Joslin.  Ada  Blythe 


78  PAULINE   WYMAN. 

pinched  her  arm,  and  Pauline  turned  around. 
Victoria  Raymond  was  holding  out  her  right  hand 
to  Frank  Joslin,  while  her  left  shoulder  displayed 
a  bow  of  green  ribbon. 

"  I  dare  say  she  had  both  colors  in  her  pocket. 
She's  a  double-hearted  girl,"  declared  Pauline,  at 
the  first  opportunity.  "  Let's  take  no  notice 
whatever." 

The  girls  all  agreed  that  this  w'as  the  more  dig- 
nified course,  and  would  meet  the  approval  of  the 
large-minded  boys  of  Our  Nine. 

It  was  characteristic  of  Pauline,  however,  that 
she  found  it  very  difficult  to  follow  her  own  coun- 
sel. It  was  safe  to  predict  that,  sooner  or  later, 
she  would  end  by  informing  Victoria  Raymond 
what  she  thought  of  her. 

For  nearly  a  week  after  this,  she  did  not  see 
Victoria,  but  in  returning  from  the  Johonnet  neigh- 
borhood, the  next  Friday  night,  she  met  her  at  a 
turn  of  the  road.  Tory,  in  all  the  bravery  of  an 
iridescent  silk  gown,  was  on  her  way  to  Judge 
Lynde's  to  tea. 

"  Ah,  good  evening,  Pauline,  so  glad  to  meet 
you,"  said  she,  blandly.  "  By  the  way,  have  you 
ever  made  up  that  beautiful  piece  of  silk  you 
showed  me  last  spring  ?  " 

"  No,"  replied  Pauline,  quickly,  with  "  thunder- 
gray  "  in  her  eyes ;  "  I  hate  silk,  the  rustle  is  so 
exasperating !  " 

Victoria  viewed  her  with  a  pitying  smile,  and 
thanked  heaven  she  wasn't  born  with  such  a  tern- 


THE   BOAT   RACE.  79 

per.  What  had  gone  wrong  now  ?  Really,  it  was 
hardly  worth  while  condescending  to  a  girl  like 
this,  only  to  meet  such  impudent  rebuffs. 

She  was  about  to  pass  on,  when  the  attention  of 
both  the  girls  was  arrested  by  the  approach  of  an 
old  woman  in  a  rickety  wagon,  driving  a  disreputa- 
ble-looking horse,  with  "  staring  bones." 

"  How  d'ye  do,  Tory  ?  How  d'ye  do,  Paul- 
ighny  ? "  called  out  the  old  woman,  familiarly. 
"  All  well  at  your  house,  Tory  ? " 

"  Pretty  well,  thank  you.  But  I  shouldn't  think 
you'd  drive  that  wretched  beast.  His  appearance 
is  really  not  respectable." 

The  old  lady  only  smiled  pleasantly  at  this,  and 
drove  on  shaking  the  reins.  She  was  Victoria's 
great-grandmother,  who  had  been  so  inconsiderate 
as  to  outlive  her  contemporaries,  and  linger  on  in 
a  world  which  did  not  need  her,  to  the  embarrass- 
ment of  a  few  relatives,  who  found  her  entirely 
superfluous. 

She  was  excellent  and  kind,  but  her  ways  were 
out  of  date  and  not  to  be  tolerated  in  fashionable 
society,  so  she  had  been  relegated  to  the  suburbs 
to  board.  It  seemed  to  the  Raymonds  quite  an  ex- 
pense, and  nobody  could  say  how  long  it  would  have 
to  be  kept  up,  for  Mrs.  Pettijohn  was  very  tough. 

"  A  mirthful  soul  she  was  ;  the  snows  of  age 
Fell,  but  they  did  not  chill  her." 

As  she  passed  on  Victoria  turned  around  to 
Pauline  and  said,  — 


80  PAULINE   WYMAN. 

"  Did  you  hear  what  that  absurd  old  creature 
did  last  week  ?  She  drove  that  old  horse  to  a 
picnic,  and  carried  a  platter  of  cold  beans  in  her 
lap." 

"  What  if  she  did  ?  Isn't  she  your  great-grand- 
mother ?  And  allow  me  to  add,"  blazed  Pauline, 
forgetting  herself,  "  I  don't  see  how  you  can  let 
that  dear  old  lady  live  out  there  alone  among 
strangers.  You  don't  deserve  to  have  a  grand- 
mother." 

These  were  thoughts  that  had  occurred  to  Paul- 
ine again  and  again ;  but  in  her  right  mind  she 
would  no  more  have  expressed  them  to  Victoria, 
than  she  would  have  risen  in  church,  on  a  Sunday, 
and  criticised  the  choir. 

It  was  a  great  impertinence,  as  she  saw  the 
moment  the  words  were  uttered ;  for  Pauline  was 
a  lady  to  the  innermost  fibre,  and  never  made 
such  a  slip  as  this  except  on  the  rare  occasions 
when  her  hasty  temper  ran  away  with  her. 

"  Good  evening,"  said  Miss  Raymond,  passing 
on  with  the  air  of  an  injured  goddess. 

"  Good  evening,"  returned  Pauline,  with  an  un- 
conquered,  defiant  look,  which  she  kept  up  till  the 
sound  of  Victoria's  footsteps  died  away  in  the 
distance. 

But  she  was  draining  the  cup  of  penitence. 
The  moment  she  was  alone  with  her  mother,  she 
threw  herself  at  her  feet,  and  poured  forth  the 
whole  disgraceful  story. 

"Oh,  mother  confessor,  I  have  her  in  aversion, 


THE   BOAT   RACE.  81 

and  I  can't  help  showing  it !  She  was  a  traitor  in 
the  camp  last  week,  and  now  she  makes  fun  of 
her  grandmother.  She's  ignoble,  you  must  admit 
it.  And  to  have  her  condescend  to  me,  merely 
because  I  am  poor  and  she  is  rich,  —  a  girl  whose 
father  is  not  educated ! 

"  Why,  it  lashes  me  to  fury.  My  temper  always 
rises  at  her  condescension,  and  I  frighten  myself 
when  I  hear  my  own  words." 

"  Poor,  impulsive  child  !  And  what  did  Victoria 
say  to  your  unprovoked  assault  ?  " 

"  Nothing.  She  merely  levelled  her  nose  at  me, 
like  a  drawn  dagger,  and  bade  me  '  Good  even- 
ing ! '  Oh,  she  knows  how  to  keep  a  deadlock  on 
her  tongue. 

"  She's  unwomanly,  she's  ungenerous,  she's 
ignoble.  But,  mother  confessor,  what  hurts  me 
worst  of  all  is  the  thought  that  I  've  made  myself 
her  inferior !  " 


VIII. 

THE    RED-HAIRED    STRANGER. 

THE  goldenrod  had  long  been  glowing  by  the 
wayside,  foretelling  the  passing  of  summer.  James 
Wyman  and  his  three  comrades,  John  Blythe,  Ned 
Hallett,  and  Sam  Fiske,  were  preparing  to  camp 
out  at  Rangeley ;  Victoria  Raymond  sent  home 
newspapers  from  Bar  Harbor,  which  made  men- 
tion of  her  "youthful  beauty"  and  her  "rich 
toilets ; "  Eva  Hallett  was  still  in  Michigan  with 
her  feeble  grandmother ;  Pauline  Wyman  was  put- 
ting her  whole  heart  into  her  work  and  making  a 
successful  teacher.  She  really  enjoyed  her  school 
when  the  weather  was  not  oppressively  warm, 
though  she  could  not  regret  that  her  "  honorable 
captivity"  was  now  drawing  to  a  close. 

"  Oh,  dear,  what  shall  we  do  without  you,  Miss 
Wyman  ?  "  wailed  the  large  girls.  "  You've  tried 
so  hard  to  make  something  of  us.  You're  the  only 
teacher  that  has  really  cared.  We  all  love  you, 
and  look  upon  you  as  a  pattern  to  follow." 

"  You  dear  souls,  you  overrate  me  tremendously. 
Don't  take  me  for  a  pattern  !  You  wouldn't  think 
of  it  if  you  knew  some  of  my  dreadful  faults," 
replied  Pauline,  humiliated  by  their  unmerited 
devotion. 

82 


THE   RED-HAIRED   STRANGER.  83 

How  had  she,  with  all  her  weaknesses,  gained 
such  ascendency  over  these  girls,  some  of  them 
older  than  herself,  and  over  the  manly  boys  who 
vied  with  one  another  in  doing  her  a  favor  ? 

It  was  chiefly  because  she  was  so  "human- 
hearted,"  so  "  desperately  sincere."  She  did  not 
look  down  upon  them  for  living  in  the  "rural  dis- 
tricts ; "  she  only  thought  it  a  pity  they  had  not 
enjoyed  better  advantages,  and  she  had  tried  her 
best  to  help  them  forward. 

Victoria  Raymond  or  even  Dorothy  Stevens 
would  have  made  enemies  of  these  boys  and  girls 
in  a  week;  but  "  Miss  Wyman,"  they  said,  "never 
puts  on  any  airs."  So  she  won  their  hearts. 

Said  Jane  Johonnet  to  Clara  Lucas,  "  Don't  you 
see  affectation  is  all  out  of  fashion  ?  If  you  want 
to  be  a  true  lady,  you've  got  to  be  a  lady  at  heart, 
and  that's  all  there  is  to  it." 

"  That's  so  !  Like  Miss  Wyman,"  was  Clara's 
reply. 

In  Pauline's  weekly  home  visits,  it  was  a  com- 
fort to  find  Roxy  Rix  always  in  the  kitchen  and 
Mrs.  Wyman  often  in  the  parlor.  Roxy  had  a 
positive  genius  for  housekeeping.  No  dough  with 
the  spirit  of  a  hop  in  it  ever  failed  to  rise  at  her 
bidding ;  no  pies  of  her  making  ever  dared  "  spew 
out "  in  the  oven ;  even  the  saucy  flies  seemed 
awed  by  her  presence,  and  met  death  at  her  hands 
with  little  show  of  resistance. 

Mrs.  Rix  had  at  last  convinced  Cinthy  Potter 
that  she  "  meant  to  stay  with  them  Wymans  as 


84  PAULINE   WYMAN. 

long  as  she  had  a  mind  ter,  and  'twas  no  use  Cin- 
thy's  acting  so  singular  about  it. 

"  When  you're  down  sick,  and  Hiram  comes  for 
me,  I'll  go,  but  I  ain't  goin'  without" 

Altogether  life  had  become  easier  at  the  old 
Wyman  place,  and  Pauline  could  have  her  leisure 
on  Saturdays  and  not  surfer  any  pricks  of  con- 
science for  it. 

But  it  was  distressing  to  see  what  a  state  the 
trees  were  in  all  over  the  place,  festooned  with 
caterpillars'  webs ;  and  Jim,  little  did  Jim  care ! 
Pauline  had  spoken  to  him  again  and  again,  but 
he  was  always  otherwise  engaged,  and  meanwhile 
what  was  to  become  of  the  trees  ? 

One  Saturday  morning,  as  Mr.  Wishart  was 
walking  up  the  street,  just  in  front  of  the  Wyman 
place,  he  was  startled  by  a  flaring  light  in  the  big 
willow  at  the  corner.  He  marvelled  what  could 
have  set  the  tree  on  fire ;  and,  hurrying  forward 
to  investigate,  saw  a  female  figure  dashing  madly 
about,  flourishing  a  jointed  stick  of  immense  length 
with  a  flambeau  at  the  end. 

The  female  was  Pauline;  the  jointed  stick  a 
rake  and  hoe  tied  together,  the  iron  part  of  the 
hoe  being  swathed  with  oiled  rags  well  ablaze. 

It  was  impossible  to  help  laughing  at  the  gro- 
tesque picture,  but  Pauline  was  too  intent  on 
business  to  care  for  appearances. 

"  The  villainous  creatures !  see  what  they've 
done,"  said  she,  making  a  flying  leap  upward, 
and  waving  her  torch  toward  the  caterpillars' 


THE  RED-HAIRED  STRANGER.  85 

webs  high  overhead.  "  Oh,  I  need  a  step-ladder ! 
I  wish  I  were  six  feet  taller." 

"  Won't  six  inches  answer  ? "  laughed  Mr.  Wish- 
art.  "  Pray  hand  me  that  murderous  weapon, 
and  let  me  make  an  onslaught  on  the  enemy's 
flags." 

"Thank  you,  Professor  Wishart,  only  I'm  so 
ashamed !  My  brother  James  ought  to  do  it,  but 
he's  away.  I  can't  get  him  interested.  There, 
you're  actually  reaching  them !  I'm  so  much 
obliged." 

Probably  this  was  Mr.  Wishart's  first  caterpil- 
lar-hunt, but  he  followed  it  up  with  untiring  ar- 
dor. He  and  Pauline  roamed  about  for  an  hour, 
carrying  war  into  the  colonies,  till  Pauline  ex- 
claimed, — 

"There's  not  a  flag  left!  The  victory  is  ours, 
—  I  mean  yours,  Professor,  —  Mister  Wishart. 
And  I  thank  you  a  very  great  thank  you.  I 
couldn't  bear  to  see  the  trees  look  so  untidy." 

"  I  don't  blame  you.  This  is  a  fine  old  place, 
Miss  Pauline;  in  my  opinion,  the  finest  situation 
in  town." 

"  Do  you  really  mean  it  ?  " 

Pauline  looked  around  with  an  air  of  serene 
satisfaction.  He  could  have  said  hardly  anything 
that  would  have  pleased  her  more. 

"The  mountain  view  and  river  view  together 
do  make  what  the  artists  call  a  'fine  composi- 
tion'; I  always  thought  so." 

"True;   and   the  effect   is   heightened   by  the 


86  PAULINE   WYMAN. 

quaint  old  house  with  its  prismatic  windows. 
Who  ever  saw  such  glass  ?  If  there's  a  pot  of 
gold  at  the  end  of  every  one  of  those  rainbows, 
as  there  ought  to  be,  how  rich  you'll  be  one  of 
these  days." 

"  Now  isn't  that  pleasant  to  think  of,  Mr. 
Wishart  ?  I  never  thought  of  that  before." 

Then,  remembering  the  story  of  the  fortune 
which  her  father  had  missed,  she  added,— 

"  But  if  we  should  find  a  pot  of  gold,  it  would 
be  only  fairy  gold.  Money  flees  away  from  the 
Wymans,  let  me  tell  you,  as  the  waters  fled  away 
from  Tantalus.  Oh,  here  comes  my  father.  Now 
I  ask  you,  father,  hasn't  Mr.  Wishart  done  us  a 
great  favor  by  cleaning  our  trees  ?  " 

Mr.  Wyman  looked  around  in  a  bewildered 
way,  as  if  at  a  loss  to  know  what  she  was  talking 
about.  Evidently  he  had  never  known  that  any- 
thing was  amiss  with  the  trees.  But,  trying  to 
be  polite  and  appreciative,  he  said,  jocosely,  — 

"The  trees  look  as  trig  as  dandelion  stems. 
Has  the  professor  been  scouring  the  bark,  like 
those  neat  old  women  of  Broeck  ?  " 

Pauline  blushed,  and  began  to  talk  very  fast 
about  the  "hideous  cobwebs,"  whereupon  her 
father's  understanding  was  enlightened;  and  he 
thanked  Mr.  Wishart  for  his  trouble,  declaring 
that  caterpillars  were  loathsome  creatures. 

"  I  have  been  deep  in  a  very  peculiar  law  case," 
he  added,  "  or  I  should  have  paid  better  attention 
to  my  grounds.  By  the  way,  Professor  Wishart, 


THE   RED-HAIRED  STRANGER.  87 

the  case  I  speak  of  is  one  that  would  interest  you ; 
and  if  you  like,  I  will  talk  it  over  with  you." 

Mr.  Wishart  said  he  should  be  most  happy; 
and,  as  the  lawyer  proceeded  to  elaborate  the 
points  with  many  waving  gestures  of  his  white 
hands,  Pauline  slipped  away  to  deposit  her  rake 
and  hoe  in  the  stable.  She  liked  to  see  her  father 
so  happy.  She  knew  he  had  been  highly  com- 
plimented by  the  press  for  one  of  his  late  argu- 
ments; and  her  mother  had  just  told  her  with 
pride  that  no  less  a  personage  than  General  Ship- 
pey  desired  his  services  in  an  intricate  matter. 

This  was  cause  for  jubilation.  If  papa  could 
only  be  duly  appreciated,  and  have  the  right  sort 
of  cases  and  enough  of  them,  his  daughter  might 
go  to  college  after  all ;  who  knew  ? 

It  was  beginning  to  rain.  Pauline  was  glad 
the  trees  were  out  of  their  shrouds.  Mr.  Wishart 
had  been  very  kind  and  helpful,  and  lately  she 
was  beginning  to  feel  quite  well  acquainted  with 
him.  She  had  always  supposed  that  bookish 
people  had  introverted  minds.  If  so,  it  seemed 
there  were  exceptions,  for  Mr.  Wishart  was  cer- 
tainly very  observant,  so  unlike  poor  papa. 

It  rained  furiously  all  the  rest  of  the  day,  to  the 
despair  of  Mrs.  Rix,  whose  immaculate  kitchen 
floor  was  thoroughly  tracked  with  mud.  The  good 
woman  surveyed  it  next  morning  with  a  troubled 
face,  and  said  meditatively  to  Pauline,  who  was 
entering  the  kitchen,  — 

"  Wish  'twas  allowable  to  wash  floors  Sunday." 


88  PAULINE   WYMAN. 

As  a  supplement  to  this  remark  there  was  a  loud 
splash. 

"  Well,  if  I  ain't  a  smart  woman  !  Can't  carry 
a  pail  o'  water  across  the  room  without  capsizing 
it.  Well,  well !  " 

Of  course  water  that  is  spilled  must  be  wiped 
up,  but  it  was  noticeable  that  Roxy's  mop  remained 
in  active  service  for  some  time,  and  when  it  retired 
at  last,  the  mud  stains  had  entirely  disappeared. 

"  She  spilled  that  water  on  purpose,"  whispered 
James,  as  Pauline  tiptoed  across  the  kitchen  and 
met  him  in  the  dining-room. 

"  To  be  sure,  but  she  tried  to  make  it  acciden- 
tal," returned  Pauline;  and  they  both  laughed 
behind  the  china-closet  door. 

"  Hello,  Paul,  here's  some  walnut  cake.  I  hope 
it's  allowable  to  eat  it  Sunday.  I  tried  to  find  it 
accidentally,  you  know." 

They  established  themselves  in  the  large  window- 
seat  at  the  east  of  the  dining-room,  and  James  con- 
tinued, his  utterance  somewhat  impeded  by  cake, 
"  I  forgot  to  tell  you,  Paul,  I  was  riding  on  the 
blind  road  Thursday,  with  father,  and  we  met 
Mr.  Bemis,  and  he  looked  amazingly  friendly  and 
stopped  his  horse  to  say,  '  How  d'ye  do,  Squire  ? 
Your  little  girl  just  fills  the  bill  out  in  our  neigh- 
borhood.' " 

"  I  wouldn't  have  thought  that  of  Mr.  Bemis. 
Did  it  please  papa  ?  " 

"  To  be  sure  it  did.  He  replied  very  grandly 
that  he  was  '  glad  his  daughter  gave  satisfaction.'  " 


THE  RED-HAIRED  STRANGER.  89 

"  '  Satisfaction  is  about  the  size  of  it,  Squire,'  says 
Mr.  Bemis,  throwing  out  his  chin,  —  you  know  that 
way  he  has ;  '  I  tell  you  our  school  is  going  to 
break  the  record  this  year.'  " 

"  Well,  there  !  " 

"  Yes,  just  those  words.  I  made  a  note  of  'em 
f6r  your  benefit,"  pursued  James,  rather  surprised 
at  his  own  extreme  courtesy  ;  but  then,  as  Eva  Hal- 
lett  had  often  said,  "He  was  not  grumpy,  like  most 
brothers,  it  didn't  hurt  him  to  say  a  nice  thing  to 
his  sister." 

Pauline  passed  him  the  cake  gratefully. 

"  '  Breaking  the  record,'  said  Bemis.  '  'Twas  an 
experiment  my  taking  a  little  girl  so,  but  I  saw 
she  had  snap  in  her,  and,  thinks  I,  I'll  risk  it.' 

" '  I  was  sure  my  daughter  would  do  her  best,' 
said  father,  and  his  head  went  up  pretty  high." 

"  Didn't  Mr.  Bemis  find  any  fault  ?  Why,  Jim,  he 
scowls  so  at  table  that  I  thought  he  disliked  me." 

"  He  did  criticise  your  government  a  little,  Paul. 
You  don't  come  down  firm  and  solid,  don't  whip  as 
much  as  you  ought  to." 

"  Those  darling  children  !  " 

"You're  a  leetle  too  easy.  He  doubts  if  you 
keep  'em  as  still  as  you  might." 

"  I  will  not  keep  them  still,  so  there ! " 

"  But  he's  graciously  pleased  to  overlook  all  that. 
For  '  she  gets  the  knowledge  into  'em,  Squire.  I 
tell  you  they  hold  their  mouths  open  for  it  like 
young  birds  in  a  nest.  There's  my  Alice,  never 
was  any  hand  for  books,  but  now  she's  at  it  from 


90  PAULINE   WYMAN. 

morning  till  night,  —  frets  her  mother  some.  I  tell 
you  what  'tis,  Squire,  we  out  our  way  want  your 
daughter  to  keep  right  on  another  winter.  The 
big  boys  won't  take  no  for  an  answer.'  " 

"  Why,  Jim,  I  wouldn't  have  thought  that. 
What  did  father  say  ?  " 

"  Not  much  of  anything ;  didn't  seem  pleased. 
I  noticed  he  gave  Selim  a  touch  of  the  whip,  and 
got  away  as  soon  as  he  could  decently.  Now, 
Paul,  you  wouldn't  be  willing  to  stay  out  there 
next  winter  ? " 

"  No,  'twould  be  too  cold.  It's  just  the  back 
country,  you  know,  without  modern  conveniences. 
But"  —  she  added  this  rather  importantly  —  "it's 
not  a  question  of  liking,  it's  a  question  of  money. 
My  earnings  count,  you  see." 

James's  head  lowered  a  little. 

"  'Twill  be  sometime  before  my  earnings  count. 
But  let  me  once  stand  on  my  feet,  and  I'll  show 
you  how  the  thing  is  done.  I  hate  to  have  my 
sister  working,  but  I'll  pay  you  back  for  it  by  and 
by.  You'll  forget  these  hardships  when  you're 
driving  out  after  a  span  of  horses  with  —  ahem! 
Attorney-General  Wyman ! " 

"  So  you've  fully  decided  to  be  a  lawyer  ? " 

"  Certainly,  I  thought  that  was  understood. 
Have  you  anything  against  it  ? " 

"  Not  a  thing.  Only,"  said  Pauline,  knitting 
her  brows  anxiously,  "  only  I'm  afraid  my  best  hat 
doesn't  look  well  enough." 

"  What  are  you  talking  about  ? " 


THE   RED-HAIRED   STRANGER.  91 

"  Riding  out  with  the  attorney-general.  He 
wouldn't  want  a  lady  looking  shabby." 

James  gave  her  a  vigorous  shake. 

"  Stop  that  now.     None  of  your  airs  !  " 

"  It's  not  airs,  it's  only  proper  pride.  Don't  you 
think,  yourself,  the  sister  of  a  distinguished  lawyer 
ought  to  be  elegantly  dressed  ?  " 

"  No  more  of  your  nonsense !  To  go  back  to 
the  point  we  started  from,  I  don't  believe  there's 
the  least  need  of  your  teaching  next  winter." 

"  I  certainly  shall  not  teach  if  I  can  do  better." 

"  How  practical,  how  business-like  !  If  you  can 
'  do  better ' ;  always  thinking  of  the  main  chance. 
Why,  Paul,  you  don't  know  how  you've  changed 
since  you  started  on  this  plaguy  school.  You 
don't  seem  like  the  same  girl." 

"  Really  ?  "     Pauline  looked  gratified. 

"  Mind  you,  I  never  said  'twas  any  improve- 
ment! You  used  to  be  the  j  oiliest  girl  in  town. 

Now  it's  — 

" '  Duty,  duty  must  be  done, 
'Tis  the  rule  for  every  one. 
Fiddle-de-dee,  fiddle-de-dee.1" 

And  having  had  the  last  word,  and  finished  the 
cake,  James  walked  off  to  make  ready  for  church. 

Plainly,  he  was  sensitive,  and  looked  upon  his 
sister's  position  of  breadwinner  as  a  tacit  reproach 
to  himself.  He  could  not  yet  take  in  the  sordid 
idea  that  more  money  was  needed  in  the  family, 
and  that  some  one  must  earn  it. 

Jim  was  the  best  brother  in  the  world,  Pauline 


92  PAULINE   WYMAN. 

thought,  but  it  was  trying  sometimes  to  see  how 
he  rejoiced  in  his  masculinity,  thinking  it  a  boy's 
right  to  go  to  college,  and  a  girl's  privilege  to  look 
on  and  watch  his  progress,  perfectly  content  to 
miss  the  higher  education  herself. 

But  this  was  a  trifling  annoyance.  Pauline  was 
chiefly  concerned,  now  that  summer  was  over,  in 
thinking  of  something  to  do  through  the  autumn. 
If  she  might  only  stay  at  home  and  write  a  book 
or  paint  a  picture ! 

"  But  I'm  troubled  with  youngness  and  inexperi- 
ence. I'm  only  fit  for  drudgery.  Martin  Luther 
was  right ;  '  this  is  a  hard  world  for  girls.'  " 

And  oh,  such  a  commonplace  world !  This  was 
not  what  the  mountains  had  said  to  her  when  she 
gazed  at  them  from  the  north  doorstone ;  she  had 
read  wondrous  possibilities  in  their  far-off  violet 
haze.  This  was  not  what  the  poets  had  said  to 
her.  And  she  still  believed  in  the  poets  and  the 
mountains,  and  kept  the  high  heart  of  youth. 

But  one  thing  was  certain.  This  was  no  time  to 
dream  of  the  mystical,  beautiful  future.  Now, 
just  now,  she  must  act,  she  must  find  work.  And 
God  would  help  her  find  it,  for  He  always  helps 
those  who  try  to  help  themselves.  She  was  sure 
He  had  been  leading  her  all  summer,  or  she  could 
not  have  done  so  well  in  her  school.  And  now 
He  would  open  a  new  way ;  she  would  trust  Him 
for  that. 

At  tea  time,  her  face  still  serene  with  thoughts 
like  these,  she  turned  to  Mrs.  Rix,  remarking,  — 


THE   RED-HAIRED   STRANGER.  93 

"  I  promised  to  go  with  you  sometime  to  the 
New  Bethel.  If  you  like,  I'll  go  to-night." 

"Well,"  said  Mrs.  Rix,  highly  gratified,  "I 
never  thought  of  holding  you  to  your  promise ; 
but  I  shall  be  proper  glad  of  your  company." 

As  the  two  walked  away  together  rather  earlier 
than  necessary,  —  Mrs.  Rix  was  apt  to  be  over- 
punctual,  —  it  did  not  occur  to  Pauline  that  "  the 
new  way "  she  had  begun  to  look  for  was  just 
opening  upon  her. 

"  Our  minister's  out  of  town,  and  most  likely 
we  shall  turn  it  into  a  prayer-meeting.  For  my 
part,  I  don't  ask  any  better  amusement  than  a 
good  prayer-meeting,"  said  Mrs.  Rix,  with  devout 
seriousness. 

Pauline  had  never  been  to  the  New  Bethel  be- 
fore, and  the  audience  was  for  the  most  part 
unknown  to  her.  One  man,  with  bushy  red  hair 
and  whiskers,  —  Victoria  Raymond  would  have 
called  him  "a  very  common  person,"-- seemed 
to  regard  her  curiously.  He  was  so  persistent 
that  she  could  not  look  up  without  meeting  his 
gaze.  He  had  deep-set,  sad  eyes,  with  a  wistful 
expression,  and  she  said  to  herself,  — 

"  I  can't  think  of  anything  but  Jim's  dog,  and 
the  way  he  looked  that  time  Jim  scolded  him  for 
not  bringing  a  stick  of  wood  in  his  mouth  to  put 
on  the  fire." 

The  story  was  this :  — 

Nox  was  supposed  to  be  wilful.  James  was 
very  severe  to  him,  and  Nox  bore  the  blame  as 


94  PAULINE   WYMAN. 

long  as  he  could,  then  came  very  sorrowfully  and 
laid  his  forepaws  on  his  master's  knees,  and,  open- 
ing his  red  mouth,  showed  Jim  that  he  was  suffer- 
ing from  an  ulcerated  tooth ;  and  would  his  dear 
master  kindly  forgive  him  for  not  fetching  the 
wood  ? 

Pauline,  quick  at  reading  faces,  was  convinced 
that  this  man  who  looked  at  her  so  persistently 
was  not  intending  to  be  impertinent.  He  was 
only  sad  and  self-absorbed. 

"  He  wants  to  be  forgiven  or  wants  to  be  helped, 
I  don't  know  which,"  she  thought. 

She  looked  straight  ahead  at  the  pulpit.  It 
was  not  occupied  yet.  Presently,  to  her  surprise, 
a  clergyman  stepped  forth  in  clerical  vestments. 

"What,  a  Tiscopal!  Well,  I  s'pose  they  had 
to  take  what  they  could  get,"  whispered  Mrs.  Rix, 
by  way  of  apology.  "  Never  had  tJiat  kind  before." 

Pauline  could  not  follow  the  sermon  very  closely, 
for  thinking  of  the  red-haired  stranger  and  his  ap- 
pealing eyes.  At  the  close  of  the  services,  as  she 
and  Mrs.  Rix  were  threading  their  way  out  of  the 
church,  the  stranger  walked  close  beside  them, 
and  Pauline  did  not  like  to  have  Mrs.  Rix  call  her 
by  name  in  so  loud  a  tone. 

"  Now,  Paulina  Wyman,  do  you  like  that  kind 
of  doings  ? "  said  she,  alluding  to  the  speaker  of 
the  evening.  "  What  do  you  s'pose  was  his  notion 
wearing  that  white  thing?  I  thought  'twas  our 
reg'lar  prayer-meeting,  and  I  was  beat  when  that 
ghost  came  out  and  began  to  talk." 


THE   RED-HAIRED   STRANGER.  95 

Pauline  did  not  reply.  The  red-haired  man  was 
following  them  into  the  street,  but  Mrs.  Rix  did 
not  observe  it.  He  walked  just  behind  them, 
keeping  time  with  their  steps.  It  was  certainly 
odd,  and  Pauline  began  to  feel  somewhat  per- 
turbed. As  soon,  however,  as  Mrs.  Rix  had  fin- 
ished berating  the  'Piscopals  and  the  pope,  she 
found  time  to  notice  that  Pauline  was  pinching 
her  arm,  and  turning  around  and  looking  at  the 
man,  she  greeted  him  in  a  friendly  way,  — 

"  Why,  Aaron  Manly  !    Is  that  you  ?  " 

Pauline  breathed  freely ;  it  was  all  right,  if  Mrs. 
Rix  knew  him. 

Mr.  Manly  replied  quite  as  if  the  meeting  had 
been  accidental,  —  and  perhaps  it  had  been,  after 
all. 

"  Why,  how  do  you  do,  Mrs.  Rix  ?  " 

Then,  after  a  few  more  courtesies  had  been 
exchanged,  he  turned  down  a  side  street,  and  was 
lost  to  view. 

"  He  went  considerable  of  a  piece  out  of  his 
way.  Wonder  what  for?  "  queried  Mrs.  Rix. 

"  Who  is  he  ? " 

"  Aaron  Manly ;  a  good  likely  fellow's  ever 
lived.  Engineer  on  the  railroad, — or  was.  I 
heard  they'd  turned  him  off.  I  don't  know  what 
for." 

"  That  may  be  what  is  troubling  him,  then.  I 
noticed  him  in  church,  and  his  eyes  had  a  sad  ex- 
pression ;  a  little  wild,  too.  Does  he  generally 
look  like  that?  I  do  believe,  Mrs.  Rix,"  added 


96  PAULINE   WYMAN. 

Pauline,  with  one  of  her  sudden  intuitions,  "  I  do 
believe  he  wants  one  of  us  to  help  him,  —  either 
you  or  me,  —  only  he  hadn't  the  courage  to  ask." 

Mrs.  Rix  smiled  indulgently,  thinking  —  though 
she  was  too  polite  to  say  it  —  that,  for  a  girl  of 
her  sense,  Pauline  Wyman  did  take  silly  notions 
sometimes. 

"  Why,  what  could  you  or  me  do  to  help  Aaron 
Manly  ?  "  said  she. 

But  it  soon  appeared  that  Pauline  had  not  been 
misled  by  her  intuition. 


IX. 

PAULINE'S  ENGINEER. 

THE  next  evening,  Monday,  a  gentleman  called 
at  Mr.  Bemis's,  and  without  giving  his  name,  in- 
quired for  "  Squire  Wyman's  daughter." 

"He  looks  dreadful  scared,"  whispered  Alice 
Bemis.  "  I  set  out  to  tell  him  you  wouldn't  hurt 
him." 

On  entering  the  parlor,  Pauline  saw  there  the 
red-haired  stranger,  his  anxious  look  intensified. 

"  Miss  Wyman,  I  believe  ?"  said  he,  offering  his 
hand,  then  withdrawing  it  "  My  name  is  Manly," 
waving  away  the  chair  she  offered. 

"  Didn't  I  see  you  Jast  night,  with  Roxy  Rix  ? 
Yes,  I  thought  so,  ana  thought  I'd  ask  Roxy  to 
introduce  me,  and  then  I  thought  better  of  it,  and 
thought  —  " 

This  flow  of  thoughts  suddenly  ceased,  and 
there  was  silence  for  nearly  half  a  minute,  when 
he  began  again  courageously,  — 

"  I  felt  rather  shy  about  telling  my  errand.  I 
feel  that  way  now.  I  feel  as  if  I  want  to  be  able, 
you  see,  to  — to  hold  up  my  head." 

And  he  dropped  it  abjectly,  and  took  a  look  at 
his  boots. 

"  It's  circumstances,  —  that's  what  it  is ;  it's 
H  97 


98  PAULINE   WYMAN. 

nothing  wrong  I've  done.  Well,  I  might  as  well 
out  with  it.  I  haven't  done  anything  wrong." 

"  I'm  sure  you  haven't,  Mr.  Manly,"  said  Pauline, 
gently. 

He  had  had  some  sort  of  trouble,  and  it  had 
"gone  to  the  brain,"  and  she  knew  that  lunatics 
need  soothing. 

"  I'm  sure  you  were  not  to  blame,  Mr.  Manly. 
But  would  you  mind  telling  me  all  about  it, — if 
it's  something  you  think  I  ought  to  know?" 

She  could  not  be  afraid  of  him,  —  a  man  so 
afraid  of  herself.  She  spoke  with  straightfor- 
ward kindness,  forgetting  that  she  was  young 
enough  to  be  his  daughter,  —  thinking  only  of 
helping  a  poor  soul  in  distress. 

"You  talk  just  like  your  father,"  said  the  poor 
man,  reassured.  "  I  saw  last  night  you  looked  like 
him.  A  kind-hearted  man,  your  father  is,  noted 
for  it." 

This  sounded  rational. 

"So  you  know  my  father,  Mr.  Manly?" 

"Yes.  Perhaps  I  ought  to  have  talked  with 
him  first ;  but  my  wife  said,  No,  you  were  the  one, 
nobody  could  say  yes  or  no  for  you.  The  fact  is," 
he  cleared  his  throat,  "  the  fact  is,  I  lived  in  the 
Provinces  a  while  —  when  I  was  small." 

"  Oh  dear,  wandering  again,"  thought  poor  Paul- 
ine. 

"  Where  there  are  no  free  schools.  Father 
moved  there  from  New  Hampshire  when  I  was  a 
baby.  We  were  poor  and  I  —  well,  I  didn't  learn 
to  read." 


PAULINE'S   ENGINEER.  99 

Light  began  to  dawn  on  Pauline's  mind.  "  We 
came  back  to  the  States  when  I  was  twelve.  I 
might  have  gone  to  school  then,  but  I  was  ashamed 
to.  They  couldn't  get  me  inside  a  schoolhouse. 
I  set  up  as  candy-boy  on  a  train,  then  worked  along 
to  be  brakeman  and  finally  engineer.  Yes,  engi- 
neer. Nobody  mistrusted  I  couldn't  read.  Maybe 
I  didn't  look  like  that  kind  of  a  man." 

He  certainly  did  not,  and  Pauline  said  so. 

The  ice  once  broken,  he  told  quite  coherently 
of  his  wife's  efforts  to  instruct  him  at  home,  when 
the  children  were  in  bed,  and  of  her  comparative 
failure  because  she  "  hadn't  any  knack  at  it,"  and 
besides  could  not  use  her  eyes  of  an  evening. 

But  he  got  on  well  with  his  engine.  The  de- 
spatches that  came  to  the  engineer  were  read  to 
him  on  the  sly  by  the  telegraph  operator.  "Haines 
was  my  chum,  he  knew  how  it  was  with  me." 

But  three  months  ago,  Haines  becoming  ill,  a 
new  operator  was  employed,  who  did  not  know 
"the  circumstances,"  and  alas,  Mr.  Manly's  igno- 
rance had  to  be  exposed.  He  was  turned  off  as 
unfit  for  the  place. 

"All  right.  I  wasn't  fit.  But  the  worst  of  it 
was,  my  boy  heard  of  it,"  said  Mr.  Manly,  his 
voice  trembling.  "  That  cut  me  up  worst  of  all. 
I'm  in  the  iron  works  now,  but  it's  not  my  calling 
and  it's  poor  pay.  I  could  be  taken  back  on  my 
engine  any  minute,  and  they  want  me  back,  if  I 
could  only  pass  muster  at  reading  and  writing. 
Do  you  suppose  I  could  learn  .at  my  age  ? " 


100  PAULINE   WYMAN. 

He  looked  at  Pauline  as  if  his  eternal  salvation 
depended  upon  her  reply. 

"That's  what  I  came  to  ask.  My  wife  hears 
you  have  uncommon  faculty.  She  says  if  anybody 
can  drill  the  learning  into  me,  it's  you." 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Manly,  I'm  so  young.  I  never  tried 
to  teach  till  this  summer." 

"  It  isn't  that,  it's  the  gumption.  Your  school 
closes  Friday,  I've  found  that  out;  and  now  if 
you'll  begin,  say  next  week,  and  teach  me  even- 
ings at  your  house,  I'll  pay  you  handsomely  and  be 
everlastingly  obliged  to  you  into  the  bargain.  Will 
you?" 

"  I'm  afraid  I  shouldn't  know  how." 

"  If  you  don't,  then  nobody  does." 

The  man's  face  was  clouding. 

"Well,  I'm  sorry  for  you,  Mr.  Manly,  and  sorry 
for  your  children.  If  you  really  wish  it,  I  might 
try.  That  is,  if  my  father  doesn't  object." 

"Then  it's  done,  for  I'll  risk  but  I  can  plead 
my  case  with  the  Squire.  He'll  keep  my  secret, 
won't  he?  You  see,  I  can't  have  this  talked 
about." 

"  Papa  will  be  careful.  But  all  our  family  will 
know  it,  Mr.  Manly ;  they'll  have  to  know  it.  You 
won't  mind  that  ?  " 

"  No,  I  can  trust  anybody  of  the  name  of 
Wyman." 

Mr.  Manly  was  "holding  up  his  head"  already. 

"  What  stumps  me  most,"  said  he,  growing  con- 
fidential, "is  this  writing  business.  You  can't 


PAULINE'S   ENGINEER.  101 

guess  what  it  is  to  have  your  fingers  cramp  up, 
and  move  contrary  to  what  you  expect." 

Pauline  cast  a  commiserating  glance  at  the 
man's  toil-hardened  hands,  and  hesitated  a  mo- 
ment. Then  she  said  brightly,  — 

"  But  you'll  get  the  swing  of  it  after  a  while. 
People  like  you  who  are  in  dead  earnest  can  do 
almost  anything." 

"  The  Lord  bless  you  for  those  words !  You 
make  me  feel  as  if  life  isn't  all  over  yet !  May  I 
bring  my  wife  to  your  house  with  me  —  if  I  come  ? 
She  wants  to  see  you.  She  thinks  she  can  give 
you  a  few  points  about  me." 

And  so  it  was  virtually  settled.  Here,  as  Paul- 
ine said  to  herself,  was  her  opportunity,  though  it 
had  appeared  in  a  guise  quite  unforeseen.  The 
Manlys  came,  and  proved  to  be  excellent  people, 
grateful  and  appreciative. 

James  called  Mr.  Manly  the  "  family  mystery." 
He  was  let  in  every  evening  at  the  side  door  to 
receive  his  lessons  in  the  dining-room  in  the  strict- 
est secrecy.  He  had  come  to  the  right  place  for 
help,  and  after  two  or  three  weeks  began  to 
"thank  God  and  take  courage." 

"  He's  abrightman,  and  will  soon  read  fairly  well," 
said  Pauline.  "  As  for  writing,  when  he  learns  that 
a  pen  isn't  a  pitchfork,  he  can  handle  it  better." 

It  was  a  pleasure  to  help  him ;  and  besides,  he 
paid  very  generously.  Still  it  was  slow  work,  and 
Pauline  did  not  like  to  be  confined  to  the  house 
through  the  beautiful  autumn  evenings. 


102  PAULINE   WYMAN. 

She  had  another  scheme  in  prospect.  Mr. 
Fields,  one  of  the  leading  lawyers  of  the  town,  her 
father's  friend,  needed  a  copyist,  and  would  give 
her  employment  as  soon  as  she  should  have  be- 
come proficient  upon  the  type-writer.  Fortunately 
she  already  knew  shorthand  pretty  well ;  it  had 
been  a  favorite  diversion  with  her  and  Eva. 

A  year  ago,  Mrs.  Wyman  would  have  objected 
to  her  daughter's  going  into  an  office,  but  now  was 
obliged  to  consider  it  a  privilege.  Copying  is 
easier  than  teaching;  and  there  was  the  advan- 
tage of  having  Pauline  at  home  nights  and  morn- 
ings. 

"  And  such  good  wages,  mother !  I'm  getting 
sordid  ;  don't  you  see  it  ?  " 

Mrs.  Wyman  did  not  see  it;  she  only  saw  in 
Pauline  a  "plain  devotedness  to  duty."  But  she 
drew  one  of  her  little  half-audible  sighs  as  she 
thought  how  scant  would  be  the  girl's  time  for 
study. 

"Yes,  I  know  what  you're  thinking,  mother. 
But  let  me  once  graduate  my  engineer,  and  then 
I'll  have  all  my  evenings  to  myself." 

But  Pauline's  engineer  could  not  be  hurried. 
As  Jim  said,  "he  had  come  to  stay."  He  had  a 
zeal  for  knowledge,  and  usually  forgot  what  time 
it  was,  thereby  causing  her  much  embarrassment. 
As  callers  were  not  aware  of  his  presence  in  the 
house,  or  even  of  his  existence,  it  began  to  be 
wondered  what  Pauline  was  doing  that  kept  her  so 
invisible.  It  was  understood  that  she  practised  on 


PAULINE'S   ENGINEER.  103 

the  type-writer  during  the  day,  closing  it  punct- 
ually at  five  o'clock.  But  after  that  what  was  she 
doing  ? 

"  I  called  there  two  evenings  last  week,"  said 
Dorothy  Stevens,  "once  at  half-past  seven,  once 
at  eight,  and  she  couldn't  be  seen.  Why  not  ?  " 

"She  neglects  the  King's  Daughters,"  said 
Miriam  Ladd. 

"And  our  Young  Women's  Club,"  said  Ada 
Blythe. 

From  far-off  Michigan  came  Eva  Hallett's  com- 
plaint that  her  dear  Pauline  would  not  answer 
letters. 

"  Mysterious,  isn't  it  ? "  hinted  the  secretive 
Victoria  Raymond,  darkly ;  "I  hate  mysteries." 

Professor  Wishart,  like  the  others,  wondered 
what  was  absorbing  Pauline.  All  through  the 
summer  he  had  been  in  the  habit  of  dropping  in 
very  frequently  of  an  evening  at  the  Wymans, 
and  still  continued  to  come.  He  enjoyed  convers- 
ing with  Mr.  Wyman,  who  never  showed  him  the 
moody  side  of  his  nature.  Pauline,  when  at  home 
from  her  school,  had  always  sat  in  the  room,  an 
attentive  listener,  but  now  she  never  appeared  till 
late  if  at  all. 

"  Ah,  Miss  Pauline,  we've  been  waiting  for  you," 
said  he  one  evening,  as  she  came  in  at  ten  o'clock 
to  find  a  cosy  group  of  four  —  her  father,  mother, 
Mr.  Wishart,  and  James  —  sitting  around  the  open 
fire. 

"Yes,"    said    Mr.  Wyman;    "we   thought  you 


104  PAULINE   WYMAN. 

might  like  to  hear  something  about  the  origin  of 
heraldry." 

"  Do  you  mean  coats  of  arms,  father  ?  Well, 
if  there's  any  meaning  to  those,  I'd  really  like  to 
know  what  it  is.  I'm  sorry  you  had  to  wait  for 
me,  though." 

"  '  Our  only  one  '  will  have  to  be  excused,"  struck 
in  James.  "  She's  a  great  philanthropist,  goes  in 
for  an  evening  sch — " 

The  word  was  smothered  by  the  brisk  appli- 
cation of  a  little  hand  across  his  mouth,  and  a 
reproachful  "  Now,  Jim  !  " 

"  Daughter,  I  think  I  left  my  spectacles  in  the 
study.  Will  you  please  get  them  ?  I  have  lately 
assumed  spectacles,  Professor  Wishart,  and  am 
always  losing  them.  Don't  you  find  them  a 
trouble  ? " 

The  professor  replied  that  his  own  were  a  part 
of  himself,  and  could  not  be  mislaid  any  more 
than  his  head.  As  Pauline  tripped  away  on  her 
mission,  he  remarked  to  James,  — 

"  I  don't  believe  she  weighs  half  a  pound  more 
than  a  blue  butterfly.  Isn't  she  getting  thin  by 
over-confinement  to  the  house  ? " 

"  Oh,  she's  light  on  her  feet,  always  was,"  re- 
turned James,  carelessly.  "  But  as  for  her  taking 
air  and  exercise,  why,  you  can't  keep  her  still. 
You  ought  to  see  her  on  the  back  doorstone 
doing  her  calisthenics." 

"  For  all  that,"  thought  Mr.  Wishart,  "  her  su- 
perb color  is  waning  a  little." 


PAULINE'S   ENGINEER.  105 

It  would  have  risen  higher  than  ever  if  she  had 
suspected  how  closely  she  was  watched  as  she  re- 
turned with  the  spectacles,  pausing  on  the  way  to 
caress  the  cat,  and  lay  her  cheek  against  her 
mother's.  Her  sweet,  contented,  home-like  ways 
had  always  attracted  the  lonely  stranger,  remind- 
ing him,  though  with  a  difference,  of  the  little 
sister  he  had  lost. 

Edith  had  had  the  same  sunny,  singing  dispo- 
sition, the  same  frank,  affectionate  smile,  though 
with  less  of  roguery  in  it.  And  Edith,  like  Paul- 
ine, had  had  a  natural  aptitude  for  picking  up 
more  burdens  than  her  young  shoulders  could 
carry.  He  looked  thoughtfully  at  the  pink  pearl 
ring  which  he  wore  as  a  memento  of  little  Edith, 
and  said  to  himself,  — 

"  They  ought  to  be  careful  of  Pauline.  I  wish 
they  knew  it.  This  work,  whatever  it  may  be,  is 
wearing  on  her,  I  fear." 

"There,"  said  Pauline,  disposing  herself  upon 
a  hassock  at  her  father's  feet,  "  I'm  ready  now, 
and  dying  to  hear  about  coats  of  arms.  What 
were  they  for  in  the  first  place  ?  " 

"They  were  simply  shields,"  replied  Mr.  Wish- 
art,  laying  a  small  portfolio  on  the  table ;  "  port- 
able shields  that  men  carried  about  in  time  of 
war." 

"  Was  that  it  ?     And  what  were  they  made  of  ?  " 

"  Of  wood  or  of  osiers  plaited  together  and  cov- 
ered with  many  folds  of  ox-hides." 

"  You  always  knew  about  those  shields,  Paul," 


106  PAULINE   WYMAN. 

exclaimed  James.  "  You  remember  the  '  moun- 
tain-targe of  tough  bulls'-hide '  they  took  to  the 
Battle  of  Bannockburn." 

"  Jim  is  my  admiration,"  said  Pauline  ;  "  he's  so 
fond  of  Scott.  I  believe  he  knows  the  '  Lord  of 
the  Isles'  by  heart;  don't  you,  Jim?  But,  dear 
me,  such  heavy  things  to  carry !  Those  ancients 
must  have  been  giants." 

"  The  Greeks  and  Romans  kept  improving  upon 
these  shields,  as  you  may  suppose,"  continued  Mr. 
Wishart.  "  They  put  metallic  rims  around  them, 
painted  portraits,  or  hung  portraits,  on  them, — 
sometimes  pictures  representing  some  heroic  feat. 
I  dare  say  your  father  remembers  how  the  crow 
came  on  a  shield." 

"You  refer  to  Marcus  Valerius,"  said  Mr.  Wy- 
man,  ready,  as  usual,  with  accurate  information. 
"The  poor  fellow  was  obliged  to  fight  a  giant 
Gaul  in  single  combat.  He  would  have  been  killed 
if  a  quick-witted  crow  had  not  kept  flying  in  the 
face  of  the  enemy  and  pecking  at  his  eyes,  till 
the  giant  was  blinded  and  slain.  '  The  raven  as- 
sisting, I  conquered,'  was  the  motto  the  Roman 
put  on  his  shield  with  the  crow's  picture." 

"  One  way  of  crowing  over  the  enemy,"  re- 
marked James. 

"And  after  that,"  said  Mr.  Wishart,  "the  Ro- 
man took  the  crow's  name,  calling  himself  Marcus 
Valerius  Corvus." 

"  Hear  that,  brother  Jim  !  You'll  be  adding 
your  dog's  name  to  your  own,  some  day,  and  call- 
ing yourself  James  Wyman 


PAULINE'S   ENGINEER.  107 

The  dog  Nox,  at  James's  feet,  looked  up  as  if 
well  pleased  with  the  idea,  and  James  patted  his 
black  forehead  and  said,  - 

"Well,  old  boy,  save  my  life  some  day,  and  I'll 
do  it." 

"  Thus,  Miss  Pauline,  you  trace  the  evolution 
of  the  shield.  With  these  significant  pictures  and 
mottoes  on  it,  it  became  a  medium  of  recognition 
between  nations  and  tribes." 

"  I  see !  I  see !  "  said  Pauline,  all  alert 

Mr.  Wishart  liked  to  give  her  a  bit  of  informa- 
tion, if  only  for  the  pleasure  of  seeing  her  eyes  kindle. 

"  But  these  ancients  weren't  all  heroes,  Mr. 
Wishart.  What  was  there  for  a  commonplace 
man  to  put  on  his  shield  ?  " 

"  Well,  there  were  animals  enough.  He  could 
put  on  the  picture  of  one  he  happened  to  fancy,  or 
was  supposed  to  resemble." 

"A  lion  or  a  tiger,  if  he  thought  himself  very 
brave,"  suggested  Mrs.  Wyman. 

"  Exactly.  And  then,  when  shields  fell  into 
disuse,  this  picture  was  transferred  to  the  man's 
property.  It  was  affixed  to  his  house,  engraved 
on  his  seal,  chased  on  his  plate,  emblazoned  on 
his  carriage." 

"  Oh,  that's  it !  Now  we  come  to  the  coats  of 
arms,"  exclaimed  Pauline.  "  Let's  choose  one, 
father,  for  the  ancient  and  honorable  house  of 
Wyman." 

"  You  forget,  my  daughter,  that  Wyman  is  an 
adopted  name.  Our  family  name  is  Curtis." 


108  PAULINE   WYMAN. 

"  Yes,  and  prettier,  much  prettier.  Why  don't 
we  go  back  to  it,  father?  The  Wymans  have 
done  nothing  for  us,  that  we  should  carry  their 
name  all  our  lives." 

Mr.  Wyman  looked  at  his  daughter  inquiringly. 
What  could  she  have  heard  that  called  forth  that 
remark  ? 

"  If  you  think  of  setting  up  a  coat  of  arms,  Miss 
Pauline,  perhaps  one  of  these  would  suit  you," 
said  Mr.  Wishart,  smiling,  as  he  opened  the  port- 
folio on  the  table,  and  took  out  some  of  the  papers 
at  random. 

"  What  brilliant  colors  !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Wy- 
man. "  Red  is  called  gules,  I  believe,  and  white, 
argent.  I  know  all  that  about  heraldry.  Yes, 
and  couped  means  cut  off." 

"  Well,  here's  a  gules  rose  for  you,  and  an  ar- 
gent rose,"  said  James,  flourishing  a  picture. 
"  The  War  of  the  Roses,  I'll  warrant,  for  the 
motto  says,  '  Extremes  meet.' ' 

"You're  a  Yankee  for  guessing,"  laughed  Mr. 
Wishart.  "  Yes,  the  red  and  white  roses,  the 
extremes,  met  in  peace  when  Henry  VII.  married 
a  princess  of  the  House  of  York.  Do  you  see 
anything  else  there  ?  " 

"  Why,  there's  a  shamrock  on  the  crest.  Hur- 
rah, that's  Ireland!  The  picture  was  made  just 
after  Ireland  came  into  the  kingdom." 

"You're  right;  that's  the  story  the  shield  tells." 

"Now,  I  never  knew  there  was  half  so  much 
meaning  in  heraldry,"  said  Pauline.  "  But,  Mr. 


PAULINE'S   ENGINEER.  109 

VVishart,  what  is  this  ?  Three  trumpet-flowers, 
three  barberry-flowers,  and  on  the  crest  a  sprig  of 
wormwood.  What  do  these  flowers  have  to  do 
with  one  another  ?  And  what  does  the  motto 
mean,  '  I  feel  the  severity  of  separation  '  ?  " 

"  This  one  depends  on  the  language  of  flowers, 
Miss  Pauline,  and  needs  a  key.  The  trumpet- 
flower  is  a  native  of  North  America,  and  when  it 
was  transplanted  to  Europe,  it  was  supposed  to 
miss  and  mourn  its  little  friend,  the  humming- 
bird, so  its  language  is  '  separation.'  " 

"  What  a  pretty  idea  !  " 

"  Well,  the  artist  tries  to  illustrate  the  pangs  of 
separation,  by  giving  us  the  barberry,  which  means 
'  sharpness/  and  the  wormwood,  which  means 
'bitterness.'  Quite  poetical,  you  see." 

"I  call  that  piling  on  the  agony.  I'll  warrant 
that  shield  was  given  to  some  '  wandering  Willie ' 
by  his  '  ladye-love,'  "  said  James;  and  with  hand 
upon  his  heart,  he  sang,  in  a  sentimental  tenor,  — 

" '  All  joy  was  bereft  me  the  day  that  you  left  me, 
And  climbed  the  tall  vessel  to  sail  yon  wide  sea.' " 

"  It  grows  late,"  said  Mr.  Wishart.  "  Now,  if 
any  of  you  care  to  see  more  of  these  coats  of  arms, 
I'll  bring  them  over  again  some  evening  with  the 
language  of  the  flowers  written  on  the  backs." 

"  Thank  you,  that  will  be  very  interesting,"  said 
Mrs.  Wyman.  "  And  would  you  mind  my  copy- 
ing some  of  them,  Professor  Wishart  ?  " 


110  PAULINE  WYMAN. 

"  Certainly  not.  Do  with  them  as  you  like,  and 
keep  them  as  long  as  you  please." 

Then,  as  an  afterthought,  he  selected  one,  scrib- 
bled a  few  words  on  it  in  pencil,  and  passed  it  to 
Pauline,  saying,  — 

"  Please  accept  with  my  compliments." 

The  moment  he  was  gone,  James  seized  upon 
the  shield. 

It  bore  one  flower, — the  crowfoot,  —  and  on 
the  crest  was  a  sprig  of  nightshade.  Motto,  "  Re- 
tiring loveliness  commands  admiration." 

"  Hello  !  Listen  all.  It  says  here,  '  The  crow- 
foot, or  goldilocks,  prefers  secluded  places,  and 
its  language  is  "modesty."  To  illustrate  the  charm 
of  modesty,  we  have  the  pink  nightshade,  signi- 
fying "enchantment."  ' 

"  Well  done !  The  professor  knows  how  to 
flatter.  See  our  Goldilocks  blush !  If  he  had 
given  this  to  a  bashful  young  fellow  like  me,  now, 
there  would  have  been  some  sense  in  it !  " 

And  James  tossed  the  picture  over  to  Pauline. 
Her  eyes  were  glowing  with  pleasure.  Compli- 
ments were  no  new  thing  to  her,  but  one  from 
Mr.  Wishart  had  value.  And  then,  as  her  eye 
caught  the  word  "retiring,"  she  said, — 

"  Oh,  that  refers  to  my  retiring  from  the  room 
so  often  when  he  calls.  It's  just  a  play  upon 
words,  Jim." 

"So  it  is.  I  didn't  think  of  that.  For  a 
demure-looking  chap  like  Wishart,  he  is  an  incor- 
rigible joker.  He  doesn't  often  show  it  off  at  the 
house  here,  but  we  fellows  know  it." 


PAULINE'S   ENGINEER.  Ill 

Pauline  did  not  care  to  look  at  the  picture  again. 
Mrs.  Wyman  took  it  from  her  hand,  and  studied 
it  thoughtfully  without  comment. 

"  I  knew  you  would  enjoy  heraldry,  my  dear," 
said  her  husband,  looking  around  for  his  spec- 
tacles. "All  you  need  is  a  little  explanation,  and 
then  it  is  so  suggestive." 

"Very,"  she  replied. 

She  did  not  tell  him  what  heraldry  suggested 
to  her.  She  wished  to  wait  and  discuss  her  idea 
first  with  Pauline. 


X. 

A    NEW    IDEA. 

MRS.  WYMAN  had  been  studying  the  availabili- 
ties of  the  goldilocks  coat  of  arms  for  a  fancy- 
work  pattern.  Thus  far  various  dainty  articles  of 
her  making  had  lain  unsold  at  the  Women's  Ex- 
change, but  this  was  a  novelty  ;  how  would  it  look 
on  a  cushion-cover  or  a  tidy  ? 

"  Just  the  thing,"  assented  Pauline. 

Mrs.  Wyman  embroidered  it  forthwith,  and  it 
was  received  with  applause. 

"  It  happened  to  take,"  said  the  business  mana- 
ger of  the  Exchange.  "  I'd  like  any  number  of 
articles  of  this  sort,  while  there's  a  fad  for  them ; 
they  will  sell  at  sight." 

Mrs.  Wyman  felt  encouraged,  and  Pauline 
thought  they  had  found  a  bonanza.  When  Mr. 
Wishart  called  a  few  evenings  later,  he  did  not 
suspect  that  the  little  portfolio,  which  he  carried 
under  his  arm,  held  a  commercial  value  for  the 
Wymans.  He  merely  thought  they  were  remark- 
ably appreciative  people,  and  counted  it  a  privilege 
to  be  able  to  please  them.  A  young  man  who 
calls  very  frequently  at  a  house  is  glad  to  do 
something  to  make  his  visits  acceptable. 

Pauline  opened   the   portfolio  and  immediately 

112 


A  NEW   IDEA.  113 

fell  into  raptures  over  a  "  Dinna  forget "  motto, 
illustrated  by  forget-me-nots  and  golden  furze. 
Her  eyes  had  a  remote  look,  Mr.  Wishart  fancied, 
as  if  she  were  meditating  on  the  poetical  meanings 
of  heraldry. 

"With  that  broad  forehead  and  those  'think- 
ing eyes,'  she  cannot  help  being  a  dreamer,"  he 
thought. 

Just  now,  however,  she  was  merely  querying 
how  that  wonderful,  intense  blue  of  the  forget-me- 
nots  could  be  matched  in  silk. 

When  the  coats  of  arms  had  been  duly  admired 
and  discussed,  the  conversation  turned  to  feudal 
estates  in  England,  and  from  those  to  ancient 
houses  in  America,  and  Mr.  Wyman  gave  a  brief 
history  of  the  old  Wyman  place. 

It  was  built,  he  told  Mr.  Wishart,  not  long  after 
the  War  of  the  Revolution.  The  two  round  win- 
dows—  the  one  in  Pauline's  room  and  the  one  in  the 
attic  —  were  reproductions  of  the  wheel-windows 
of  the  Old  State  House  in  Boston.  "  I  believe  my 
grandfather  wanted  them  entirely  for  the  moun- 
tain view.  He  had  an  eye  for  beauty,  though  he 
never  owned  to  it." 

"  Have  they  rainbows  like  the  other  windows  ? " 
asked  Mr.  Wishart. 

"Mine  has  none,"  replied  Pauline,  "but  papa's, 
in  the  attic,  has  cobwebs." 

Then  Mr.  Wyman,  warming  to  the  subject,  gave 
the  history  of  the  low,  brass  andirons  and  fender, 
of  the  style  of  1820,  and  exhibited  a  picture 


114  PAULINE   WYMAN. 

wrought  in  tapestry  by  the  major's  sister,  repre- 
senting a  puffy-cheeked  maiden  playing  with  a 
garlanded  lamb. 

"The  major,  my  adopted  grandfather,  was  in 
the  second  war  just  long  enough  to  get  his  title 
well  affixed  to  him.  He  was  a  farmer,  considered 
rather  crusty,  but  delightful  to  those  he  loved. 
He  never  spoke  a  cross  word  to  me  but  once,  and 
then  I  deserved  it,  for  hopping  up  and  down  on 
the  kitchen  floor  when  he  was  shaving,  causing 
him  to  cut  a  gash  in  his  cheek.  He  always  shaved 
before  the  kitchen  looking-glass." 

"  Didn't  he  own  a  large  part  of  the  real  estate 
of  Eveleth  ?  "  asked  James. 

"Yes." 

"And  did  he  seem  to  you  like  a  real  grand- 
father ?  "  inquired  Pauline,  who  had  always  wanted 
to  know. 

"  Certainly ;  I  remember  him  much  better  than 
my  own  father,  who  died  in  my  childhood,  while 
the  major  lived  till  I  was  a  grown  man.  Yes,  I 
loved  him  with  all  my  heart,  and  after  the  death 
of  my  father,  I  am  sure  I  was  the  dearest  object 
to  him  on  earth." 

Pauline's  eyes  wore  again  their  far-away  look, 
but  she  forbore  to  ask  further  questions. 

Affairs  seemed  brightening  a  little  for  the  Wy- 
mans,  as  Mrs.  Wyman's  work  was  creating  quite  a 
large  demand. 

"  You'll  embroider  us  into  an  everlasting  fortune, 
mother,"  said  Pauline.  "  You  stab  the  wolf  at  the 


A   NEW   IDEA.  115 

door  with  your  little  needle,  and  I  frighten  him  off 
with  my  big  type-writer.  How  things  do  work  to- 
gether to  help  us !  My  district  school  and  then 
my  engineer  and  now  these  coats  of  arms ;  they 
all  seemed  to  drop  down  out  of  the  sky." 

"  I  think  they  did,  dear." 

"My  daughter,"  added  Mrs.  Wyman  after  a 
pause,  "  considering  all  this  prosperity,  I  think  you 
may  keep  your  new  gown." 

She  referred  to  Mr.  Wyman's  gift  of  last  winter, 
which  had  been  sold  to  the  obliging  Mrs.  Rix. 

Pauline  pretended  not  to  understand. 

"A  new  gownd,  is  it?"  said  she,  in  excellent 
Irish  brogue.  "  Thrue  fer  ye,  ma'am,  I'm  nading 
that  same !  I've  nothin'  but  the  clo'es  that's  on 
me,  ma'am,  the  ragman's  got  the  rest." 

She  would  not  consider  seriously  the  idea  of  tak- 
ing back  her  goods  from  Mrs.  Rix. 

A  bargain  was  a  bargain,  she  said.  And  any- 
how she  hated  silk,  it  did  swish  so,  and  set  her 
teeth  on  edge.  How  long  had  she  held  this  opin- 
ion of  silks?  Did  it  date  from  that  memorable 
conversation  of  last  April  ?  Her  mother  knew  it 
did.  Last  April !  Why,  to  Pauline  the  time 
seemed  prehistoric.  She  felt  as  if  she  had  been 
steeped  in  poverty  from  her  cradle. 

Mrs.  Wyman  saw  this  with  pain ;  but  the  fact 
remained  that  times  were  "  hard,"  and  as  Mrs.  Rix 
truly  said,  "  the  Squire's  brains  didn't  do  him  much 
good  about  getting  a  living."  Other  lawyers  of 
far  less  ability  took  away  his  clients  ;  and  Mr. 


116  PAULINE   WYMAN. 

Wyman  was  left  with  more  and  more  leisure  for 
his  favorite  studies,  —  philosophy,  ancient  history, 
and  the  dead  languages. 

He  did  not  feel  quite  easy  about  this ;  still  the 
family  got  on  somehow,  and  Pauline  was  devel- 
oping astonishingly.  He  wondered  vaguely  how 
they  could  afford  to  keep  Mrs.  Rix ;  but  his  wife 
knew  best,  she  was  a  famous  manager.  Besides, 
as  he  told  Uncle  Ike,  it  seemed  sometimes  as  if 
affairs,  when  once  wound  up,  were  almost  able  to 
keep  going  of  themselves.  He  meant  not  to  bor- 
row trouble,  but  to  take  life  easy. 

Uncle  Ike  might  have  reminded  him  that  who- 
ever takes  life  easy  causes  some  one  else  to  take  it 
hard;  but  instead  of  that  he  merely  caught  his 
niece's  husband  by  the  buttonhole,  and  made  him 
promise  to  stop  signing  notes  for  "  friends." 

When  Mary  Wyman  heard  of  this,  she  threw 
both  arms  around  her  old  uncle's  neck,  and  de- 
clared she  "  was  so  happy  that  she  need  not  envy 
Caesar." 

By  the  middle  of  November,'  Pauline's  engineer 
was  graduated  with  honors,  and  thus  ended  the 
"  family  mystery."  Mr.  Manly  could  now  read 
quite  fluently,  write  legibly,  and  sign  his  name  with 
a  flourish.  He  and  his  happy  little  wife  were 
grateful  souls,  and  it  looked  as  if  Pauline  would 
never  want  for  flowers  so  long  as  they  kept  their 
small  greenhouse,  or  for  fruit  in  the  season,  while 
their  vines  continued  to  bear. 

Pauline  lost  no  time,  after  Mr.  Manly's  gradua- 


A   NEW   IDEA.  117 

tion,  in  beginning  her  duties  at  Mr.  Field's  office. 
She  was  in  need  of  rest ;  but  Mr.  Field  had  a  press 
of  business,  and  could  not  be  asked  to  wait.  And 
the  work  was  easy,  so  she  declared,  and  she  liked 
it  better  every  day. 

One  morning,  as  she  was  leaving  the  house  for 
the  office,  her  father  set  forth  in  a  cart  drawn  by 
Selim,  and  bound  for  the  wood-lot  He  was  to 
cut  up  the  winter's  supply  of  wood,  —  compara- 
tively new  work  for  him.  But  then,  as  he  said,  it 
was  good  exercise,  and  he  needed  it.  Pauline  did 
not  know  that  he  was  feeling  the  stimulus  of  her 
example.  She  rebelled  a  little,  not  liking  to  see 
her  learned  father  in  a  working-suit,  —  with  an  axe 
in  the  cart  beside  him,  like  a  common  laborer. 

The  season  was  advancing.  The  trees  had  laid 
aside  their  court  dresses  some  time  ago,  and  stood 
by  the  roadside  in  modest  dun  color  and  gray. 

"They've  abjured  the  pomps  and  vanities  of 
this  present  evil  world,  and  so  have  I,"  thought 
Pauline.  "  I  always  meant  to  be  something,  and 
do  something.  Must  I  give  it  up  ?  This  is  a  hard 
world  for  girls." 

She  was  feeling  decidedly  cross.  It  was  a  dark, 
raw  day,  and  a  few  tiny  snowflakes  were  dropping 
slowly  into  the  wheel-tracks  of  the  road.  She 
regarded  them  disapprovingly. 

"  Good  morning,  Miss  Pauline,"  said  Mr.  Wish- 
art,  overtaking  her.  "  Prithee,  why  so  serious  ? " 

"  Perhaps  it's  the  snow-storm.  I  don't  like  it 
much.  Do  you,  Mr.  Wishart?  " 


118  PAULINE   WYMAN. 

"  But  there  isn't  any.  This  is  only  a  little 
bravado.  See,  there's  the  sun  now." 

It  was  just  peeping  over  the  thin  edge  of  a 
cloud,  and  seemed  to  smile  humorously  at  the 
meek  little  snowflakes,  drifting  uncertainly  through 
the  air. 

"There,  I'm  glad  of  that.  I  don't  want  winter 
coming  yet  awhile." 

"  But  your  winters  here  are  fine,  aren't  they  ? " 

"  Yes ;  only  too  long.  And  to  wake  up  in  the 
morning,  and  find  the  world  so  still  and  white,  — 
not  a  sound  of  the  birds !  I  wouldn't  mind  win- 
ter, if  the  birds  would  only  stay." 

"  There's  a  bird  in  the  Yosemite,  they  say,  who 
sings  his  sweetest  songs  in  winter." 

"  How  kind  of  him  !  " 

"  He  is  a  wise  bird,  too.  His  nest  is  in  the  high 
cliffs  above  the  lake ;  and,  when  the  vegetation 
gets  dry  around  there,  how  do  you  suppose  he 
freshens  it,  and  makes  things  pleasant  for  the 
mother  and  her  brood  ?  " 

"  I  can't  imagine." 

"  Why,  he  takes  a  dip  in  the  lake,  and  carries  up 
water  on  his  wings,  and  sprinkles  it  over  the  nest." 

"  Why,  he's  a  philosopher !  Why,  he's  almost 
an  angel !  I  never  heard  of  that  bird  before. 
Dear  me,"  added  Pauline,  irrelevantly,  "  I  don't 
read  anything.  I've  no  time ;  and  it  gives  me 
such  a  starved  feeling." 

Mr.  Wishart  was  touched.  What  could  he  say 
to  encourage  the  child  ? 


A   NEW   IDEA.  119 

"  But  it  must  make  you  happy,  Miss  Pauline,  to 
think  what  you've  done  for  Mr.  Manly.  He  says 
you've  brightened  his  whole  life." 

"  Mr.  Manly  ?     Why,  that's  a  profound  secret." 

"  Then  you've  kept  it  better  than  he  has.  He 
told  me  all  about  it  last  week." 

"  Why,  Mr.  Wishart !  And  we  were  all  so  care- 
ful not  to  breathe  a  syllable.  He  charged  us  over 
and  over.  Now,  isn't  that  perfectly  absurd  ?  " 

And  Pauline  laughed  heartily.  Mr.  Wishart 
laughed  with  her. 

"  He  charged  me  too.  That's  the  way  some 
men  keep  their  own  secrets,  —  by  intrusting  them 
to  other  people." 

"  Men  ?     Yes.     That's  the  way  Jim  does." 

"Well,  Mr.  Manly  told  me,  Miss  Pauline,  be- 
cause he  knew  I  was  a  friend  of  your  family.  He 
says  he  is  very  proud  to  be  able  to  hold  up  his 
head  among  men,  and  it's  all  owing  to  you,  and  you 
are  'one  of  God's  girls.'  He  said  it  reverently." 

Pauline's  face  beamed. 

"  But  tell  me,  please,  Miss  Pauline,  do  you  have 
to  copy  very  steadily  at  the  office  ?  " 

"  Not  every  minute,  oh,  no.  Mr.  Field  and  Mr. 
Ferguson  dictate  letters  whenever  they  happen  to 
think  of  it,  and  are  not  talking  to  callers." 

"And  I  suppose  they  have  a  good  many 
callers  ? " 

"Yes.  I  don't  see  them,  I'm  glad  to  say.  I'm 
shut  off  behind  a  screen.  My  father  insisted  upon 
that." 


120  PAULINE   WYMAN. 

The  young  Englishman  was  glad  of  this,  and 
scored  a  point  in  Mr.  Wyman's  favor. 

"  But  I  hear  all  they  say,  and  law  cases  are  so 
tedious." 

"  I  suppose  while  they  talk  you  beguile  yourself 
with  a  book  ? " 

"  I  never  do.  I'm  afraid  I  should  be  too  much 
beguiled." 

"  Well,  it  might  not  be  safe.  I  was  only  think- 
ing how  dull  it  must  be  for  you  there  at  times, 
doing  nothing.  Isn't  that  partly  the  cause  of  'the 
starved  feeling '  you  speak  of  ?  " 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Wishart,  I  didn't  mean  to  complain. 
I  have  a  bad  habit  of  speaking  out  the  thought  of 
the  moment.  I  had  just  been  thinking  of  the 
higher  education,  and  how  it  seems  farther  and 
farther  away." 

"  I  understand.  But  there  is  time  enough  yet, 
Miss  Pauline." 

"  Perhaps.  But  did  you  ever  think,  Mr.  Wish- 
art,  if  there's  anything  we  particularly  want, 
that  may  be  the  very  thing  we  ought  not  to 
have?" 

She  spoke  with  a  brave  little  smile.  Mr.  Wishart 
reflected  a  moment.  They  had  now  reached  the 
door  of  the  office,  and  he  had  only  time  for  a  few 
words. 

"  What  you  need,  Miss  Pauline,  is  encourage- 
ment. If  you  had  a  course  of  study  marked  out 
for  you,  you  would  be  surprised  to  see  how  much 
can  be  accomplished  at  odd  moments." 


A   NEW   IDEA.  121 

"  Do  you  think  so  ?     Do  you  really  think  so  ?  " 

"  I  do.  That  is,  with  a  competent  person  like 
your  father  to  offer  suggestions,  and  hear  you 
recite.  You  can't  do  it  alone." 

Pauline  did  not  reply,  but  her  face  fell  suddenly. 
Mr.  Wishart  could  not  fail  to  observe  it  as  he  bade 
her  good-by. 

"  I  ought  to  have  known  better  than  to  say  that. 
I  dare  say  her  father  has  desultory  modes  of 
teaching, — it  would  be  like  him,  —  and  his  help 
wouldn't  amount  to  much,"  thought  the  young 
man.  "  She's  counterchecked  every  way.  I  wish 
I  could  teach  her  myself  !  " 

Which  shows  that,  while  Professor  Wishart 
might  not  be  exactly  conceited,  he  certainly  held  a 
pretty  good  opinion  of  himself  as  an  instructor. 

He  thought  the  matter  over  at  intervals  all  the 
morning,  and  said  to  Pauline  that  afternoon  as  he 
met  her  again,  —  purely  by  accident,  —  on  her 
way  to  the  office,  — 

"  Have  you  thought  any  more  of  what  I  said  to 
you  this  morning  about  a  regular  course  of  study  ? 
If  you  wish  to  undertake  it,  and  will  accept  me  as 
an  instructor,  I  shall  count  it  a  pleasure  to  serve 
you." 

Pauline  looked  up  in  bewildered  surprise. 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Wishart,  how  kind !  "  she  exclaimed, 
while  the  blue  deepened  in  her  eyes,  and  the  pink 
in  her  cheeks.  "  How  very  kind  you  are  !  There's 
nothing  I  should  like  half  so  well." 

"Then  I'll  call  to-morrow  evening,  and  if  your 


122  PAULINE   WYMAN. 

parents  approve  we  will  discuss  the  matter  further. 
But  here  we  are  at  the  office.  Good-by." 

The  little  lever  clock  on  Pauline's  desk  ticked 
at  high  pressure  all  that  afternoon.  Study  ?  To 
be  sure  she  could.  What  shady  seclusion  her 
screen  afforded,  as  if  placed  there  expressly  to 
encourage  students !  Her  mother  would  be  sure 
to  say  again  that  there  was  a  Providence  in  all 
these  helps. 

"And  it's  really  no  affair  of  Mr.  Field's  what 
I  do  with  my  leisure,  if  I'm  only  on  the  '  quee 
vivvyj  as  Mrs.  Rix  calls  it,  when  I'm  needed. 
He  says  I'm  '  level-headed.'  I'll  prove  it !  " 

To  Pauline's  surprise,  her  mother  did  not  show 
any  great  eagerness  when  the  plan  was  unfolded 
to  her.  She  only  looked  thoughtful,  and  said,  — 

"  It  is  worth  considering.  But  why  don't  you 
ask  your  father  to  teach  you  ?  " 

"I  might,  mamma,  if — but  you  remember 
we've  tried  it  over  and  over,  and  it  didn't  work." 

"  Y-e-s,  I  know  it's  hard  for  your  father  to 
be  on  time,"  said  Mrs.  Wyman,  apologetically ; 
"  that's  your  father's  weakness." 

"  Besides,  mamma,  he's  apt  to  ramble  off  on 
subjects  that  have  nothing  to  do  with  the  lesson. 
It's  just  delightful,"  Pauline  hastened  to  add, 
"but  it  doesn't  advance  me  very  fast  in  my 
studies." 

"Your  father  is  too  discursive,  I  know.  It 
comes,  I  suppose,  of  his  omnivorous  reading.  He 
says  himself  he's  not  fitted  for  a  teacher. 


A  NEW   IDEA.  123 

"  But  as  for  Professor  Wishart,  Pauline,  with 
all  the  demands  on  his  time,  how  can  he  take  a 
private  pupil  ?  Isn't  it  asking  too  much  ? " 

"  I  didn't  ask  it,  mother ;  'twas  his  own  propo- 
sition." 

Mrs.  Wyman  still  looked  undecided. 

"And  he  would  come  to  the  house,  would  he, 
to  hear  your  lessons  ?  " 

"  I  suppose  so.  And  do  you  know,  mother,  I 
think  he  speaks  the  truth  when  he  says  it  would 
be  a  pleasure.  Haven't  you  noticed,  yourself, 
how  he  seems  to  enjoy  coming  here  ? " 

"Ah,  does  he  ? " 

Mrs.  Wyman  looked  at  her  daughter,  inquir- 
ingly. 

"Yes,  he  can  appreciate  father's  conversation. 
And,  besides,  he  tells  Jim  it's  the  loveliest  home 
he  ever  saw,  and  he  envies  him  such  a  mother." 

"That's  wholesale  flattery!  Fie,  little  girl,  for 
making  your  mamma  blush." 

"  But  you'll  think  seriously  about  these  lessons, 
mother.  Oh,  do  !  You  know  it's  my  only  chance." 

"  I'll  talk  to-night  with  your  father,"  said  Mrs. 
Wyman,  still  with  that  singular  absence  of  enthu- 
siasm which  the  eager  daughter  found  it  so  hard 
to  understand. 

There  was  a  long  conclave  in  the  study,  that 
evening,  between  her  parents,  and  once  or  twice 
the  murmur  of  voices  grew  so  earnest  that  Pauline 
began  to  feel  anxious. 

Before  she  learned  the  "  sense  of  the  meeting," 


124  PAULINE   WYMAN. 

however,  an  event  had  occurred  of  importance  so 
grave  that  Mr.  Wishart  and  his  project  sank  to 
insignificance,  and  became  as  foreign  and  uninter- 
esting to  Pauline  as  the  Great  Wall  in  China. 


XL 

IN   THE   WOOD-LOT. 

JAMES  stood  by  the  half-cleared  breakfast-table 
next  morning,  pencil  and  note-book  in  hand,  amus- 
ing little  Arthur  by  illustrating  the  mishaps  of  the 
old  woman  in  the  house  with  two  windows,  who 
started  out  for  a  pail  of  water.  Arthur  knew  the 
story  by  heart,  yet  watched  eagerly  the  ups  and 
downs  of  the  pencil  as  "down  she  fell;  she  got  up 
and  walked  along  a  little  further,  and  down  she 
fell."  But  just  as  this  slippery-footed  old  woman 
had  nearly  got  back  to  the  house,  and  Arthur  was 
waiting  breathlessly  to  hear  her  cry  out,  "  Scat, 
you  old  cat !  "  James's  pencil  paused  in  air. 

Mr.  Wyman,  who  was  putting  on  his  cap  and 
overcoat  to  start  for  the  woods,  had  been  seized 
with  a  violent  fit  of  coughing. 

"  Let  me  go  this  time,  father,"  cried  James, 
stuffing  note-book  and  pencil  into  his  pocket. 
"  Let  me  go  !  It  is  a  shame  for  you  to  be  out 
to-day  with  such  a  cough,  and  the  ground  white 
with  snow.  It  must  have  snowed  all  night." 

"  Oh,  my  cough  is  nothing,"  replied  Mr.  Wy- 
man, lightly,  pleased  nevertheless  by  his  son's 
thought  for  him.  "  Merely  a  frog  in  the  throat. 
I  don't  give  up  to  a  trifle  like  this." 

126 


126  PAULINE   WYMAN. 

He  drank  a  mixture  his  wife  brought  him,  and 
then  began  to  draw  on  his  mittens. 

"  But  I  can  skip  a  day  now  and  then  from  my 
studies,  father.  I  can't  have  you  out  there  taking 
all  the  hard  knocks,  while  I'm  sitting  by  a  com- 
fortable fire.  I  can't  stand  it  any  longer !  "  de- 
clared James,  his  manly  face  flushing. 

Pauline  looked  at  him  approvingly,  but  Mrs. 
Wyman  remonstrated. 

"  My  son,  think  how  little  experience  you  have 
had  in  felling  trees.  It's  not  safe  for  you  to  be 
out  there  in  the  woods  all  alone." 

James  listened  respectfully,  but  with  an  air  of 
mortification,  being  proud  of  his  muscle ;  and, 
partly  to  soothe  the  boy's  feelings  and  partly  for 
argument,  his  father  said, — 

"  Why,  Mary,  as  to  that,  James  has  a  good 
strong  arm.  And  he's  cautious,  too ;  I'd  risk 
him  where  I'd  risk  myself.  But  I'm  not  going 
to  give  up  to  this  insignificant  cold." 

And  with  that  he  relapsed  into  another  paroxysm 
of  coughing. 

"My  dear,"  said  his  wife,  "you  must  certainly 
stay  at  home.  But  why  should  either  of  you  go  ? 
I  can't  see  the  necessity." 

Mrs.  Rix,  coming  in  to  clear  the  table,  listened 
in  mute  consternation. 

"  Wish  'twas  allowable  to  speak  my  mind,"  she 
thought,  giving  the  coffee-pot  a  shake.  "A  boy  that 
ain't  used  to  the  axe  ain't  no  business  in  the  woods. 
I  do  hope  the  Squire  will  have  more  sense." 


IN   THE   WOOD-LOT.  127 

But  the  Squire  had  already  declared  he  would 
risk  his  son  where  he  would  risk  himself. 

"  Now,  mother,"  pleaded  James,  "you  hear  what 
father  says.  There's  not  the  slightest  danger ;  so, 
unless  'twill  make  you  really  unhappy  — " 

He  turned  to  his  father,  and  Mrs.  Wyman 
looked  at  them  both.  They  were  exchanging  hu- 
morous glances,  after  the  manner  of  the  sterner 
sex  when  they  consider  women  a  little  unrea- 
sonable. 

"  I  won't  do  it,  mother,  if  'twould  make  you 
nervous,"  said  James,  most  dutifully. 

Mrs.  Wyman  took  herself  to  task,  thinking  she 
might  have  been  over-apprehensive  ;  so,  against 
her  better  judgment,  she  yielded  the  point,  and 
James  "  rose  to  the  privilege,"  as  he  expressed  it 
in  law  phrase,  of  going  to  the  woods  in  place  of 
his  father. 

"You'll  see  where  I  left  off  yesterday,  James. 
I  was  in  a  clump  of  yellow  birch." 

"  Selim  will  walk  straight  up  to  it,"  said  James. 
"  Look  here,  mother,  can't  you  add  something  to 
that  luncheon  you  put  up  for  father?  I  like 
mince-pie  myself." 

Ten  minutes  later  the  youth  rode  off  in  the 
pung  triumphant,  followed  by  his  admiring  com- 
rade, the  collie  Nox,  and  watched  wistfully  out  of 
sight  by  his  mother. 

"  I'll  do  this  once  a  week,  anyway,  till  the  job 
is  finished.  Paul  will  find  she's  not  the  only  one 
who  works  for  the  family." 


128  PAULINE   WYMAN. 

It  was  a  bright,  crisp  morning,  and  he  sang  and 
shouted,  glad  for  once  to  go  "on  holiday,"  and 
forget  that  "  a  book  was  ever  bound,  or  a  fellow 
bound  to  study  it." 

Reaching  the  wood-lot,  which  was  finely  pow- 
dered with  snow,  he  began  at  the  place  where  his 
father  had  left  off,  and  attacked  with  his  axe  a  fine 
yellow  birch. 

"  Now  this  is  good  practice.     I  enjoy  this." 

It  was  slower  work  than  he  had  supposed.  He 
began  to  respect  his  father's  muscle ;  but  when 
the  tree  came  down  at  last,  with  a  resounding 
crash,  he  cried  out,  — 

"  There,  I  did  that  by  main  strength  and  awk- 
wardness !  I  wish  mother  were  here.  She'd  find 
I  have  sense  enough  to  clear  the  track  when  a 
tree  is  falling.  We  know  a  thing  or  two,  you 
and  I,  don't  we,  Nox  ?  " 

Nox  responded  that  they  knew  more  than 
tongue  could  tell.  He  was  proud  of  the  perform- 
ance, and  took  half  the  credit  to  himself  as  a  part- 
ner on  equal  terms. 

After  the  boughs  and  branches  of  the  birch  had 
been  cut  up  and  laid  in  a  goodly  pile,  James  began 
upon  another  tree  still  larger  than  the  first.  He 
was  growing  tired  by  this  time,  and  probably 
hungry,  as  was  to  be  expected  of  a  knight  of 
labor  at  high  noon,  with  a  dinner  pail  near  him 
containing  choice  edibles. 

At  any  rate,  whether  from  combined  hunger 
and  fatigue,  or  from  sheer  carelessness,  the  young 


IN  THE  WOOD-LOT.  129 

wood-cutter  made  a  slight  miscalculation,  as  many 
a  man  has  done  before  him,  and  failed  to  get  out  of 
the  way  in  season.  When  the  second  tree  fell,  it 
came  down  upon  him  with  terrible  force,  breaking 
one  of  his  legs,  and  pinning  him  fast  to  the  ground. 

Agonized  with  pain,  yet  utterly  unable  to  move, 
he  lay  there,  literally  buried  alive  in  the  snow. 
Of  what  avail  to  cry  out  ?  He  was  a  mile  from 
the  highway ;  no  human  being  could  hear  him. 
By  nightfall  his  father  would  be  alarmed  and 
come  in  search  of  him ;  but  long  before  that  he 
would  be  frozen  to  death  where  he  lay,  alone  in 
his  grave  of  snow. 

He  had  forgotten  Nox ;  had  not  heard,  or  had 
heard,  as  in  a  dream,  his  piercing  howls.  The 
dog  paused  now  to  lick  his  master's  face ;  it  was 
his  only  means  of  expressing  sympathy. 

"You'd  help  me  if  you  could,  yes,  yes,  Nox. 
Oh,  yes.  But,  poor  fellow,  what  can  you  do  ?  " 

Yet  Nox  was  a  dog  of  remarkable  intelligence, 
as  James  had  been  heard  to  declare  times  without 
number. 

"  I  might  send  him  home,  but,  bright  as  he 
is,  he  couldn't  make  them  understand  what  has 
happened." 

Then,  in  his  dire  strait,  a  sudden  thought 
came  to  him,  almost  as  if  his  guardian  angel  had 
spoken  it. 

"  I  might  write  a  note  to  father  and  pin  it  around 
Nox's  neck.  He'd  take  it  home.  Must  know  as 
much  as  a  carrier  pigeon.  I'll  try  it." 

K 


130  PAULINE   WYMAN. 

Fortunately,  his  note-book  and  a  lead-pencil 
were  in  his  pocket ;  he  had  put  them  back  after 
drawing  the  cat-picture  for  Arthur,  —  could  it  have 
been  this  morning  ?  He  took  them  out,  —  his  arms 
were  free,  —  and  with  difficulty  managed  to  write,  — 

"  Help,  help,  father !  A  tree  has  fallen  on  me. 
Come  quick!" 

This  note  he  wrapped  in  his  handkerchief,  tying 
the  handkerchief  securely  around  the  animal's  neck ; 
then  in  firm,  even  tones,  he  commanded,  — 

"  Nox,  go  home.     Go  home,  Nox." 

The  loving  creature  looked  at  him  earnestly, 
inquiringly. 

"  Dear  master,"  said  the  soft,  pleading,  brown 
eyes,  "  ask  anything  but  that.  I  can't  leave  you 
here  all  alone." 

There  was  a  moment  of  terrible  suspense  to 
James ;  then  Nox,  comprehending  the  situation, 
turned  suddenly  about  and  ran  for  the  road. 

"  Good  boy !  Good  Nox !  He's  going  home ! 
Thank  God !  Thank  God !  "  sobbed  James,  aloud. 
"  How  long  will  it  take  him  ?  Will  anybody  see 
his  necklace  and  find  the  note  ?  If  Paul  were 
only  there !  Or  Dan  !  Will  he  be  out  of  school  ? 
Father  wouldn't  notice.  Mother  might.  Or  Mrs. 
Rix.  Well,  I've  done  all  I  could." 

Never  before  had  James  prayed  as  he  prayed 
now,  on  that  couch  of  snow.  But  in  the  midst  of 
a  broken,  wordless  appeal  he  dropped  off  to  sleep, 
forgetting  the  flight  of  time  and  the  appalling  un- 
certainty of  his  fate. 


'Tying  the  handkerchief  securely  around  the  animal's  neck." 

—  Page  130. 


IN   THE   WOOD-LOT.  131 

Nox  must  have  travelled  with  unprecedented 
speed.  It  lacked  a  quarter  of  two  o'clock  when 
Mr.  Wyman,  Dr.  Mixter,  and  Ned  Hallett  arrived 
in  the  wood-lot. 

"  The  only  wonder  is  that  he  got  off  so  well. 
No  sign  of  internal  injuries,"  announced  the  doc- 
tor, when  the  youth  was  safe  at  home  in  his  own 
bed,  with  his  mother  and  sister  crying  over  him. 

Pauline  resented  Dr.  Mixter's  lightness  of  speech ; 
and  the  patient,  just  emerging  from  another  swoon, 
thought,  "  if  folks  had  it  to  bear  themselves,  they 
wouldn't  be  quite  so  flippant." 

But,  coming  to  full  consciousness  and  reflecting 
on  the  dangers  he  had  passed,  James  was  really 
thankful  it  was  no  worse.  Broken  bones  can  be 
mended.  He  had  "got  off  well,"  and  he  "highly 
resolved  "  to  bear  his  mishap  like  a  man. 

A  youth  who  has  had  scarcely  a  sick  day  in  his 
life  does  not  take  kindly  to  gruel  and  pillows,  and 
it  was  well  that  Jim  had  Paul  to  "groan  to,"  as 
he  freely  admitted. 

"A  junior  hasn't  time  to  waste  horizontalizing," 
he  growled,  faintly,  next  morning,  while  she  was 
bringing  him  his  breakfast.  "  I  tell  you,  Paul, 
I'm  going  to  get  my  discipline  this  time,  and  you 
must  help  me  bear  it !  " 

"  I  will,  Jim ;  I  will,"  returned  Pauline,  patting 
his  cheek,  as  she  surreptitiously  winked  off  a  tear. 
"  Order  me  about.  Scold  me  all  you  like.  You 
know  I've  always  scolded  you  fearfully,  and  it's 
the  greatest  relief !  " 


132  PAULINE   WYMAN. 

Nox  stood  near  the  bed,  on  his  hind  feet,  cross- 
ing his  paws  to  beg  for  food. 

"We'll  feast  him  like  a  king,  the  dear  little 
beastie,"  said  Pauline,  "and  we'll  call  you  James 
Wyman  Cants,  Jim ;  how  do  you  like  it  ?  Nox 
is  the  toast  of  the  town." 

For  two  or  three  days  no  visitors  were  allowed 
except  Uncle  Ike.  The  dear  octogenarian,  or  as 
Mrs.  Rix  had  it,  " octo-geranium"  was  much  crip- 
pled, and  every  thud  of  his  cane  on  the  floor 
struck  terror  to  the  patient ;  but  Jim  bore  it  like 
a  hero.  Uncle  Ike  walking  was  an  instrument 
of  torture ;  Uncle  Ike  seated  was  a  trap  to  catch 
a  sunbeam.  There  was  no  doing  without  him. 
He  not  only  brought  good  cheer  to  his  favorite 
nephew,  but  always  came  laden  with  delicious 
dainties  of  his  own  preparing.  He  had  recipes 
enough  to  last  through  a  winter's  siege. 

Soon  the  "undergrads  "  were  allowed  to  drop 
in,  and  James  considered  life  worth  living.  They 
all  praised  his  room,  and,  now  he  thought  of  it, 
really  it  was  charming.  Pauline  had  hung  the 
pictures  straight,  scoured  the  three  silver-washed 
tankards  cherished  as  prizes,  put  up  fresh  cur- 
tains, and  set  vases  of  flowers  here  and  there ; 
but  that  wasn't  it,  of  course ;  it  had  always  been 
a  delightful  room,  only  he  had  never  noticed  it 
before.  So  little  do  boys  appreciate  the  deft 
touches  given  by  feminine  fingers  ! 

"  Don't  meddle  with  that  oar  on  the  wail,  Paul, 
or  'twill  come  down.  Those  moose  horns,  —  be 


IN   THE   WOOD-LOT.  133 

careful  how  you  dust  'em;  they're  not  firm  on 
the  shield.  I  think  Professor  Wishart  would  like 
those  horns,  don't  you  ?  Suppose  I  give  them  to 
him?  A  true  friend  Wishart  is,  —  coming  here 
every  evening;  it's  pleasant  to  have  it  to  look 
forward  to." 

The  professor  had  just  suggested  coaching  Jim 
to  keep  him  up  with  his  class,  and  Dr.  Mixter  was 
considering  the  question.  A  few  days  later,  when 
all  danger  of  fever  was  over,  and  the  doctor  saw 
that  his  patient  gained  apace  with  a  book  in  his 
hand,  the  question  was  settled. 

"Look  here,  Nox,"  said  Jim,  jubilantly,  "legs 
are  not  needed  to  get  us  through  college.  '  Easy 
does  it.'  Just  horizontalize,  and  the  thing's  done." 

Pauline  rejoiced  for  Jim ;  but  what  of  her  own 
lessons  ?  Her  mother  had  never  alluded  to  them, 
and  she  had  not  felt  like  asking  any  questions. 
Mr.  Wishart,  however,  seemed  to  take  it  for 
granted  that  she  was  included  in  the  new  arrange- 
ment, and  her  father  advised  her  to  "  improve  her 
opportunities."  As  her  mother  simply  said  noth- 
ing, it  came  about  very  naturally  that  Pauline 
entered,  without  further  formalities,  upon  a  regu- 
lar course  of  study. 

It  was  hard  for  her,  with  all  her  office  work  and 
the  time  she  gave  her  brother ;  but  she  was  not  to 
be  daunted  by  trifles.  She  had  laid  to  heart  the 
old  Scotch  proverb,  told  her  by  Mr.  Wishart:  — 

"A  regiment  of  armed  men  always  stands  be- 
tween you  and  the  thing  you  ought  to  do.  Go 


134  PAULINE   WYMAN. 

straight  to  it,  and  they  turn  into  mist  and  vanish 
away." 

Within  the  past  year  she  had  seen  many  an 
armed  man  "  vanish  away ; "  it  was  becoming  a 
daily  experience. 

Mrs.  Wyman  always  sat  in  her  son's  room  listen- 
ing with  flattering  attention  to  all  the  recitations. 
She  evidently  liked  Mr.  Wishart  and  was  touched 
by  his  interest  in  her  children ;  still,  Pauline  could 
not  help  seeing  that  for  some  reason  she  did  not 
entirely  approve  of  her  daughter's  being  included 
in  this  "evening  school." 

"  It  does  not  seem  like  you,  mamma,  not  to  be 
more  enthusiastic.  Father  says  a  great  deal,  you 
know,  and  is  very  much  pleased.  Don't  you  un- 
derstand it's  a  great  favor,  Professor  Wishart's  tak- 
ing me  in  in  this  way  ?  and  he  does  it  from  choice 
and  out  of  pure  benevolence. 

"  Oh,  mother,  he  is  certainly  the  kindest  and  best 
of  men !  And  then  as  a  teacher  he  does  make 
everything  so  clear  and  so  interesting !  Why, 
what  are  you  smiling  at,  mother  ?  " 

"  To  see  what  a  hero  you  make  of  this  man  !  I 
have  known  many  people  in  my  life  who  are  fully 
equal  to  Professor  Wishart ;  but  my  little  Pauline 
is  never  moderate  in  her  likes  or  dislikes ;  she 
always  glorifies  her  friends." 


XII. 

"JIM'S  ROOM." 

IT  was  wearing  on  toward  spring.  James  had 
ridden  out  twice  in  the  pung  after  Selim,  whose 
gait  was  well  adapted  to  "  horizontal "  patients,  be- 
ing even,  regular,  and  very  slow.  Dan,  the  wit  of 
the  family,  declared,  — 

"  I've  found  out  why  you  can't  get  Selim  to 
move.  He  doesn't  know  he's  a  horse ;  he  thinks 
he's  real  estate  !  " 

James  was  not  allowed  to  walk  yet,  even  on 
crutches,  but  it  began  to  appear  that  there  may  be 
compensations  even  in  a  broken  leg,  as  he  frankly 
admitted. 

"  It's  fun  going  through  college  flat  on  your 
back.  Just  like  swimming." 

It  was  a  fact  that  he  had  never  studied  like  this 
before.  His  motto  had  been  "  Easy  does  it,"  but 
now  he  was  trying  Mr.  Wishart's  motto,  "  Strike 
hard  upon  the  anvil."  Mr.  Wishart  was  a  great 
student  and  a  man  of  tireless  energy.  James  ad- 
mired him,  and  what  we  admire  we  unconsciously 
imitate. 

"Jim's  room"  continued  to  be  the  centre  of  all 
the  good  times  in  the  house,  and  half  the  good 
times  in  the  village.  The  young  people  had  never 
been  so  social  and  entertaining  as  now,  yet  the 

135 


136  PAULINE   WYMAN. 

"  evening  school "  was  never  allowed  to  fail.  Vic- 
toria Raymond  came  out  brilliantly  in  songs  and 
recitations,  and  sometimes  delighted  her  audience 
by  a  striking  costume  well  adapted  to  the  part. 
The  young  men  had  always  admired  Tory,  and 
James  was  flattered  by  her  kind  notice  of  him.  If 
he  had  known  what  some  of  the  girls  said  to  one 
another  of  her  evident  desire  to  "captivate  the 
professor,"  his  pride  would  have  had  a  fall. 

It  seemed  that  the  professor  was  becoming  very 
popular  with  the  young  people,  for  no  apparent 
reason  except  that  he  took  no  pains  whatever  to 
win  their  favor,  and  seldom  called  at  any  house  but 
the  Wymans.  When  Tory  Raymond  learned  acci- 
dentally of  the  evening  school,  she  came  as  near 
staring  at  Pauline  as  was  strictly  polite,  and  said,  — 

"  So  you  have  appropriated  him  ?  He  told  me 
to-night  there  were  quite  too  many  claims  on 
his  time.  We  must  try  to  be  merciful  to  the 
stranger  within  our  gates :  don't  you  think  so  ?  " 

She  spoke  playfully,  but  there  was  a  false  note 
in  her  laugh. 

"What  hateful  thing  has  Tory  been  saying 
now  ? "  thought  Ned  Hallett,  noting  Pauline's 
heightened  color.  He  was  always  sensitive  for 
Pauline;  indeed,  he  had  been  her  silent  admirer 
for  years.  He  drew  nearer  now,  hoping  to  have 
the  satisfaction  of  "  hearing  Polly  give  Tory  as 
good  as  she  sent."  But  he  was  doomed  to  disap- 
pointment. Pauline  knew  better  than  to  give 
way  to  her  flashy  temper  in  her  own  house.  She 


"JIM'S   ROOM."  137 

answered  the  offending  guest  with  admirable  dig- 
nity, fortifying  herself  the  while  by  repeating  the 
magical  words,  "Noblesse  oblige,  Noblesse  oblige." 

Later,  as  she  stood  in  a  group  near  Professor 
Wishart,  she  turned  to  him,  asking  suddenly,  — 

"  Can  you  tell  me  exactly  what  the  phrase  means, 
'Noblesse  oblige,'  and  where  it  originated  ?  " 

He  replied,  "  I  think  I  can.  A  French  soldier 
in  the  time  of  Henry  IV.  refused  the  honors 
offered  him,  thinking  another  man  deserved  them 
more.  '  I  come  of  an  honorable  race  who  have 
never  profited  by  unlawful  gains,'  said  he,  proudly. 
For  this  he  was  knighted,  and  the  motto  Noblesse 
oblige  was  put  on  his  shield." 

"Thank  you,  Professor  Wishart,"  said  Tory 
Raymond,  effusively;  "it's  so  satisfactory  to  know 
the  precise  meaning  of  these  common  phrases." 

"The  adopted  Wymans  are  'an  honorable 
race,' "  mused  Pauline.  "  I  wish  we  had  kept 
our  true  name  of  Curtis ;  but  all  the  same  let  me 
never  forget  that  we  are  an  honorable  race,  and 
noblesse  oblige." 

She  was  not  likely  to  forget ;  she  had  too  great 
pride  of  family.  But  the  time  was  drawing  near 
when  this  anecdote  of  the  French  soldier  would 
appeal  to  her  with  tenfold  significance.  How 
much  would  she  be  willing  to  sacrifice  then  to 
noblesse  oblige  ?  We  shall  see. 

One  evening  Mr.  Wishart  called  at  the  Wy- 
mans earlier  than  usual,  and  found  Dan  inquiring 
anxiously  for  "  Polly." 


138  PAULINE   WYMAN. 

"  She's  putting  the  baby  to  bed.  Come  right 
in  here,  sir,  and  speak  your  piece,  if  that's  what 
you  want,"  said  Jim.  "  Oh,  here  she  is !  " 

Dan  entered  reluctantly.  He  accepted  the  fact 
that  his  sick  brother  ought  to  be  amused,  but  it 
was  much  more  comfortable  to  have  only  Pauline 
for  audience.  And  here  was  the  professor  too ! 

"  I've  got  to  speak  on  the  War  of  the  Revolu- 
tion and  the  War  of  the  Rebellion,  and  say  which 
had  the  most  sense  in  it,"  said  Dan,  with  a  wry 
face. 

"  Which  side  are  you  on  ?  "  asked  Pauline,  with 
ready  interest. 

"  Oh,  we  don't  have  any  sides,  and  there's  the 
fun  of  it.  I  can  tell  what  I  think  this  time, 
honest  Injun.  Now,  Jim  Wyman,  if  you  begin 
to  laugh  —  " 

"  Go  ahead.  Don't  you  see  my  face  is  as  long 
as  a  minister's  arm  ? " 

Dan  advanced  to  the  middle  of  the  room,  and 
bowed  toward  the  bedstead. 

"  Gentlemen,  —  I  mean  ladies  and  gentlemen,  — 
I  stand  before  you  to-night,  that  is,  it's  my  duty 
to  stand  before  you  (pause),  and  my  subject  is  the 
two  wars.  (I'm  going  to  make  a  preamble.  Pro- 
fessor Wishart,  isn't  that  proper  ?) 

"  Certainly,  Dan,  by  all  means  a  preamble." 

"  Well,  then,  people  have  fought  for  very  queer 
reasons  and  for  no  reason  at  all.  They've  fought 
for  religion  with  the  religion  left  out, — that's  the 
crusades.  They've  fought  for  little  pieces  of  land, 


"JIM'S   ROOM."  139 

—  just  bits  of  swamp,  with  maybe  a  few  trees  to 
cut  down  for  kindling  wood ;  they've  fought  for 
water,  and  fought  for  opium,  —  and  everybody 
knows  what  mean  stuff  opium  is ;  ruins  the  brain. 
Xerxes  carried  war  into  Greece  because  he  liked 
Attic  figs.  And  so  forth  and  so  on. 

"  But  I  don't  mean  any  of  these  wars  in  for- 
eign parts.  I  mean  our  two  wars  right  here  in 
America.  (You  see  I'm  getting  started,  Professor 
Wishart.) 

"  Glad  to  hear  it.     About  time,"  said  Jim. 

"  You're  doing  capitally,  Dan,"  said  Mr.  Wishart, 
warmly.  "  Go  on." 

The  orator  bowed  toward  the  fireplace. 

"  Ladies  and  gentlemen,  it  requires  (I'm  afraid 
I  shall  make  poor  work  of  this)  it  requires  a 
knowledge  of  politics ;  and  you  don't  expect  a 
man  to  understand  politics  till  the  day  he's  twenty- 
one  and  goes  to  the  polls.  You  expect  it  of  Irish- 
men ;  they  learn  it  in  three  years  digging  dirt  on 
a  railroad." 

"Good,"  cried  Jim,  clapping  his  hands,  "good 
for  you,  Dan  !  " 

"  I  don't  see  any  other  chance  they  have  to 
learn  it,"  went  on  Dan,  elated  by  the  unexpected 
applause.  "  But  what  do  American  boys  know  of 
politics,  my  friends  ?  What  do  we  care  for  our 
country?  Our  brains  may  be  as  big  as  Daniel 
Webster's,  and  crammed  full  of  knowledge,  but 
who  thinks  of  asking  our  opinion  of  the  way  this 
nation  is  governed?" 


140  PAULINE   WYMAN. 

"  Or  the  opinion  of  girls  ?  "  interpolated  Pauline, 
with  spirit. 

"  No ;  right  you  are.  Ask  an  Irishman  carrying 
a  hod,  ask  an  Italian  digging  a  ditch.  They'll 
know,  they  can  tell.  Don't  ask  us  boys !  For 
this  reason  I  was  greatly  surprised,  ladies  and 
gentlemen,  when  I  was  called  upon  to  discuss 
this  question.  I'm  an  American  boy !  "  (Bow 
and  pause.) 

"  Come,  hurry  up,  Dan ;  start  out  on  the  wars," 
said  Jim. 

"  I  shan't  start  till  I  get  ready.  Make  him  be- 
have, Polly."  (Bows.)  "  Well,  I  didn't  see  either  of 
these  wars ;  I  could  compare  'em  better  if  I'd  seen 
'em  both.  I  came  to  this  country  about  twenty-two 
years  too  late  even  for  the  second  war.  Nobody 
feels  worse  about  it  than  I  do !  But  then,  I  had  a 
great  —  very  great  —  grandfather  in  the  first  war, 
and  a  comparatively  small  grandfather  in  the  sec- 
ond war;  and  I've  heard  folks  talk,  and  I've  read 
things,  and  I  know  what  I  think,  —  that  is,  I  shall 
when  I'm  twenty-one!  And  if  you'll  grant  me  your 
indulgence,  I'll  set  forth  my  views."  (He  takes  a 
drink  of  water.)  "  My  hearers,  what  did  we  fight 
for  in  1776  ?  'Twas  to  beat  the  old  folks  at  home. 
Were  we  going  to  be  imposed  upon  by  that  three- 
eyed  George  ?  No,  sir;  we  wouldn't  stand  any  non- 
sense !  (Beg  your  pardon,  Professor  Wishart.)  " 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it,  Dan.  I  wouldn't  have  stood 
it,  either !  " 

"  What  did  we  want  of  their  old  tea,  all  bitter 


"JIM'S   ROOM."  141 

with  taxes  ?  We  put  it  to  soak  in  the  Atlantic 
Ocean,  and  it's  soaking  there  yet !  What  did  we 
want  of  their  old  protection  and  their  old  pity  ? 
We  could  take  care  of  ourselves !  So  we  beat 
the  old  folks ;  they  had  to  give  up.  'Twas  a  war 
of  spunk,  my  friends,  that's  what  it  was,  and  I 
glory  in  it !  " 

There  was  loud  applause  here,  in  which  Mr. 
Wishart  joined  heartily. 

"  And  now  we  come  to  the  War  of  the  Rebel- 
lion. What  was  that  for  ?  My  friends,  forty  years 
ago  you  could  have  heard  a  yelling  all  over  the 
South ;  'twas  negroes  being  whipped ! 

"We  Northerners  couldn't  stand  that;  we  had 
to  put  cotton  in  our  ears.  We  had  hearts,  ladies 
and  gentlemen ;  we  had  big  hearts.  We  said  a 
whipping  hurts  a  black  skin  as  much  as  a  white 
skin.  We  said  all  men  are  born  free  and  equal, 
and  none  of  'em  born  to  be  horsewhipped.  '  We'll 
put  a  stop  to  this ! '  said  we,  and  we  all  rose  to 
our  feet. 

"Well,  you'll  say  that  wasn't  all  we  rose  for, 
and  it  wasn't.  There  was  talk  down  South  about 
state  rights,  and  up  North  about  the  gl-ori-ous 
Union.  There  always  has  to  be  talk,  but  all  it 
meant  was  slaves  or  no  slaves ! 

"  So  we  buckled  on  our  armor.  Oh,  'twas  a 
hard  case  !  We  didn't  want  to  do  it.  We  weren't 
mad ;  we  felt  more  like  crying.  Only  think  of  it, 
— these  were  our  brothers  !  What  we  wanted  was 
to  shake  hands  and  jog  along  pleasantly  together. 


142  PAULINE  WYMAN. 

But  no,  we  couldn't.  We  had  been  growing  more 
and  more  enlightened;  we  knew  slavery  was  wrong, 
and  we  knew  we  were  the  ones  to  crush  it  out. 

"We  just  choked  down  our  tears,  and  shut  our 
eyes,  and  fired !  That  was  the  way  we  did  it ! 

"And  now  the  blacks  are  free.  No  more 
screaming  down  South,  no  more  buying  and  sell- 
ing. We  stopped  all  that.  And,  ladies  and  gen- 
tlemen, I  glory  in  it ! 

"  So,  you  see,  to  sum  it  all  up,  the  first  war  was 
for  spunk  and  the  second  war  was  for  love.  The  first 
had  lots  of  temper,  the  second  had  lots  of  high- 
toned  principle.  They  were  each  good  in  their  own 
way ;  but  I  throw  up  my  cap  for  the  second  one ! 
Hurrah!  Hurrah!  Glory,  Hallelujah  !" 

"  The  second  one  has  won  !  "  cried  Pauline,  giv- 
ing the  speaker  a  sudden  embrace,  rather  upset- 
ting to  his  oratorical  dignity. 

"  Three  cheers  for  the  war  of  high-toned  prin- 
ciple !  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Wishart,  with  feeling. 

Jim  drew  his  hand  across  his  eyes.  "  Come  here 
and  shake  hands,  Dan.  You're  nobody's  fool !  " 

This  was  as  high  praise  as  the  elder  brother 
ever  felt  justified  in  using.  Dan  was  very  proud 
of  such  commendation,  yet  ashamed  to  let  his 
pride  be  seen. 

"  Well,  but  my  gestures  were  horrid,"  said  he, 
deprecatingly. 

"  Nobody  denies  it.  You  plunged  round  like  a 
kangaroo,  and  you  forgot  to  address  the  chair, 
and  the  prologue  was  a  mile  longer  than  the  argu- 


"JIM'S    ROOM."  143 

ment.  But  I  want  you  to  speak  it  over  again 
before  father.  I  can  guess  what  father  would 
say,  can't  you,  Mr.  Wishart  ? " 

And  Mr.  Wishart  made  Dan  his  friend  for  life 
by  replying,  — 

"  He  would  say, '  Make  room  for  another  lawyer 
in  the  family  ! '" 

James's  fracture  was  healing  apace.  By  April 
he  could  walk  quite  respectably,  and  there  was  no 
longer  any  excuse  for  his  holding  receptions  at 
home. 

"  Jim's  room  is  like  the  temple  of  Janus  in  the 
time  of  peace,  it's  cl-o-sed,"  wailed  John  Blythe ; 
and  the  young  people  joined  in  a  chorus  of  lament. 

Uncle  Ike  made  a  family  party  at  Easter-tide, 
to  celebrate  Jim's  emancipation,  and  Mr.  Wishart 
was  invited. 

"  I  declare,  he  seems  so  much  like  one  of  the 
family  that  I  did  it  before  I  thought,"  said  Uncle 
Ike. 

"You  needn't  apologize  on  my  account,"  re- 
turned James. 

"  Nor  on  mine,"  echoed  Dan,  with  enthusiasm. 
"  We  always  have  a  better  time  when  he's  'round." 

Pauline  was  silent.  She  only  hoped  Tory  Ray- 
mond would  not  hear  of  this.  She  always  felt 
uncomfortable  when  she  remembered  little  re- 
marks Tory  had  made  about  "  the  professor's  time 
being  monopolized."  And  lately  even  Dolly 
Stevens  had  been  heard  to  say  that  "  Mr.  Wishart 
seemed  to  find  the  Wymans  very  absorbing." 


144  PAULINE   WYMAN. 

"And  all  the  while  it's  pure  benevolence,  and 
they  know  it.  What  do  I  care  what  they  say  ? 
I  won't  care  !  " 

But  the  pin-pricks  had  reached  the  quick,  and 
Pauline  did  care  more  than  she  would  acknow- 
ledge even  to  herself. 

The  young  Englishman  had  always  felt  inter- 
ested in  Colonel  Selden,  and  was  glad  to  see  him 
in  his  own  home,  dispensing  a  quaint  and  hearty 
hospitality.  Though  the  old  man  was  painfully 
circumscribed  in  his  powers  of  locomotion,  no 
amount  of  lameness  could  conceal  a  certain  grace 
and  dignity  which  were  his  by  birthright.  To  his 
intimate  friends  it  was  always  apparent  that  in  re- 
ceiving guests  he  considered  himself  in  the  light 
of  a  family  man,  and  was  trying  in  some  sort  to 
make  up  for  the  absence  of  his  wife  and  children. 

"  '  Gone  are  they,  but  I  have  them  in  my  soul,'  " 
he  seemed  to  say,  as  he  raised  his  eyes  now  and 
then,  in  the  midst  of  his  cheerful  chat,  to  look  at 
three  beautiful  portraits  on  the  wall,  which  fol- 
lowed him  with  smiling  eyes.  He  always  kept  on 
hand  a  moderate  supply  of  driftwood,  and  now  a 
few  sticks  laid  across  the  copper  andirons  sent  up 
gorgeous  prismatic  flames  to  the  delight  of  the 
whole  company. 

"  Come,  let's  all  gather  around  the  rainbow  fire," 
said  James.  "  Look  at  that  motto  on  the  tiles 
overhead,  Professor  Wishart,  — 

" '  Let  the  sparks  rise 
Till  the  stars  fall  P 


"JIM'S   ROOM."  145 

"Pretty  old.  Doesn't  that  date  back  before 
Dan's  '  war  for  spunk '  ? " 

"  It  was  my  mother  who  suggested  that  ancient 
motto,"  remarked  Mr.  Wyman,  gazing  at  it  affec- 
tionately. "  The  whole  fireplace  is  an  exact  repro- 
duction of  one  she  had  seen  in  Salem,  is  it  not, 
Uncle  Ike  ? " 

"  Yes,  your  mother  took  a  lively  interest  in  my 
Margaret,  and  helped  us  about  settling  to  house- 
keeping. Paulina  Wyman  was  our  staunch  friend." 

"  I  wish  I  could  remember  her,"  sighed  Pauline, 
wistfully. 

"  Well,  put  on  a  white  cap  sometime,"  said 
Uncle  Ike,  "and  look  in  the  glass." 

The  idea  of  the  rosy  young  girl  in  such  a  guise 
amused  Mr.  Wishart. 

"  I  can  fancy  that  with  cap  and  all,  it  would  be 
like  the  old  moon  holding  the  new  moon  in  her 
arms,"  laughed  he. 

"  That  is  so.  Yet  we  always  think  Pauline  is  like 
her  grandmother,"  said  Mr.  Wyman,  reminiscently. 
"  Mother's  eyes  were  black,  but  don't  you  see 
it  about  the  eyebrows,  and  the  mouth,  Uncle 
Ike?" 

"  Y-e-s,  it  may  be  that ;  but  your  mother's  color- 
ing was  so  different.  There  certainly  is  a  resem- 
blance, but  I  should  say  it's  in  the  expression." 

Pauline  felt  as  if  she  were  under  inspection,  and 
involuntarily  turned  away  her  face.  Mr.  Wishart 
saw  her  embarrassment,  and  hastened  to  say  some- 
thing to  divert  attention  from  her. 


146  PAULINE   WYMAN. 

"The  hardest  resemblances  to  define  are  the 
spiritual  ones,"  he  said.  "  And  that  reminds  me, 
by  the  way,  of  a  beautiful  little  anecdote  I  read  the 
other  day  about  the  daughter  of  Linnaeus.  She 
once  saw  hovering,  just  over  a  flower,  its  spirit  as 
a  delicate  flame.  I  would  have  liked  that  vision 
myself ! " 

"  So  would  I,"  said  Mr.  Wyman. 

"And  so  would  I,"  echoed  Pauline,  breathing 
more  freely  now  that  the  conversation  had  drifted 
away  from  her  venerated  grandmother. 

And  as  Uncle  Ike  moved  with  leisurely  steps 
toward  the  kitchen,  she  rose  to  follow  him.  She 
was  to  whip  the  cream  for  the  coffee,  and  help  set 
the  table. 

"  Hear  them  laugh  in  the  other  room,  Uncle 
Ike,"  said  she,  as  she  put  on  her  apron.  "They're 
having  a  good  time,  and  we'll  be  as  long  as  we  like 
getting  tea,  now  won  t  we  ?" 

Her  uncle  took  out  the  sacred  fringed  linen,  and 
she  helped  him  lay  it  straight.  She  had  brought 
a  choice  bouquet  from  the  Manlys,  and  he  smiled, 
as  he  fricasseed  the  chicken,  to  see  how  attractive 
she  was  making  the  table.  "  The  women  folk  do 
have  a  knack,"  thought  he. 

"  There,  Uncle  Ike,  your  coffee  is  just  perfect," 
said  she,  pouring  some  into  a  cup.  "  Clear  as 
wine.  There's  not  much  more  to  do,  is  there  ? 
Will  it  disturb  you  if  I  ask  you  a  question? " 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it,"  replied  Uncle  Ike,  carefully 
turning  a  chicken's  wing. 


"JIM'S   ROOM."  147 

"Well,  then,  it's  about  old  Major  Wyman,  my 
adopted  grandfather.  Did  he  leave  a  will  ? " 

"  I  presume  you  mean  your  great-grandfather. 
I'm  sure  I  don't  know." 

"  But  Mrs.  Rix  says  he  did." 

"  She  knows  no  more  about  it  than  I  do.  It 
was  generally  supposed  that  he  made  a  will,  but 
very  likely  he  destroyed  it  afterwards ;  at  any  rate 
it  never  was  found." 

"  Oh,  is  that  all  ?  " 

"  Don't  for  pity's  sake  rake  up  that  old  story, 
Paulina.  Ben  Franklin  says,  —  this  chicken's 
done,  —  Ben  Franklin  says,  and  he  was  a  shrewd 
man,  '  To  be  thrown  on  one's  own  resources  is  to 
be  cast  in  the  very  lap  of  fortune.'  Will  you  wipe 
the  bottom  of  this  platter  while  I  hold  it  up  ? 

"  Money  might  have  spoiled  you,  Paulina.  Try 
to  thank  the  Lord  'twas  denied  you,  for  you're 
making  a  far  more  valuable  woman  without  it 
Burnt  ground  yields  the  finest  wheat,  and  I'll 
prove  it  to  you  some  day.  Oh,  I  can  tell  you 
things!  But  no  time  now.  Only  this  I'll  say: 
Don't  listen  to  old  wives'  fables,  and  dream  of  sil- 
ver mines  in  the  moon  ! 

"  And  now,  if  all's  ready,  we'll  call  them  out  to 
supper." 


XIII. 

THE    PROFESSOR    AND    MRS.    WYMAN. 

"  JUNE  1 7th. 

"DEAREST  EVA,  —  This  is  an  'evening  off,'  and 
I  mean  to  write  you  a  long  letter  for  once,  and 
answer  all  your  questions.  I  am  in  my  own  room 
at  my  own  desk,  which  Roxy  Rix  leaves  here  for 
safe  keeping,  as  she  leaves  the  silk  gown.  The 
curtains  are  up,  the  sky  is  gay  with  stars,  and  a 
young  moonlet  is  there,  which  I  took  pains  to  gaze 
at  over  my  right  shoulder.  All's  well  with  the 
world ;  you  are  coming  home  next  month,  and  my 
heart  sings  for  joy. 

"Yes,  I  can  partly  guess  how  you  miss  the 
sweet  grandmother ;  but  in  '  that  high  country ' 
the  angels  will  care  for  her  better  than  you  could 
do  down  here  with  all  your  loving-kindness ;  and 
isn't  that  a  comfort,  dear  ? 

"  I  am  longing  to  show  you  the  present  I've  had 
from  Uncle  Ike :  a  boat.  It's  small,  holds  four 
(generally  'twill  be  you  and  me  and  no  more!). 
I've  named  her  the  Trout-Fly  ;  and  we  gave  her  a 
merry  christening  the  other  night,  Dolly  Stevens 
officiating.  Ned  stuck  an  Old  Glory  in  one  end, 
Mr.  Wishart  a  Union  Jack  in  the  other  (by  per- 
mission), and  Tory  Raymond,  who  happened  along 

148 


THE   PROFESSOR   AND   MRS.   WYMAN.       149 

without   invitation  and  quite  accidentally,  recited 
with  much  effect  the  lines, — 

" '  And  see !     She  stirs, 

She  starts,  she  moves,  she  seems  to  feel,1  etc. 

"  I  keep  the  Trout-Fly  moored  above  the  bridge, 
by  that  beautiful  elm  that  has  a  woodbine  around 
it;  and  when  the  moon  is  larger  I'm  going  to  take 
mother  out  rowing  of  an  evening  with  '  the  other 
girls.'  There's  very  little  time  during  the  day. 
Mother  has  perfect  confidence  in  my  oarsmanship ; 
you  know  I've  had  long  practice. 

"You'll  be  surprised  to  see  how  young  that 
woman  has  grown,  Eva.  You  remember  a  year 
ago  she  was  sadly  overworked.  Not  that  I  ob- 
served it  at  the  time  especially,  —  thoughtless 
creature  that  I  was !  —  but  I  know  now  she  was 
on  the  point  of  breaking  down,  for  Dr.  Mixter 
tells  me  so. 

"That  she  didn't  break  down  is  all  owing  to 
Roxy  Rix,  who  is  still  a  fixture  in  our  home.  She 
sees  us  all  through  rose-colored  spectacles,  does 
Roxy ;  considers  father  her  best  friend,  and  says, 
three  times  a  day,  she's  glad  she's  needed  at  our 
house,  for  she  always  '  hankered '  to  stay  with  us. 

"  Father  is  still  rather  moody,  dear  man,  but 
Mr.  Wishart  has  been  a  great  help  in  keeping  up 
his  spirits. 

"  Uncle  Ike  grows  doubler  and  doubler  with  that 
dreadful  rheumatism,  but  is  otherwise  well  and 
seems  happy.  I  can't  bear  to  have  him  an  octo- 


150  PAULINE   WYMAN. 

geranium  ;  I  wish  he  might  live  fifty  years  longer 
to  give  comfort  and  assurance  to  our  trembling 
hearts,  dear  old  Uncle  Ike  ! 

"  Jim  studies  tremendously.  That  '  horizontal ' 
experience  '  waked  him  up  to  life,'  says  Uncle 
Ike.  I  think  it  did.  He  desires  his  warmest  re- 
gards to  you,  says  he  likes  you  as  well  as  Ned  does, 
and  is  just  as  anxious  to  get  you  back  again. 

"  The  baby  has  grown  beyond  recognition. 
Arthur  has  lost  all  his  front  teeth,  —  no,  he  says 
'  they  are  not  lost ;  mamma  has  put  them  away  in 
a  box.'  He  looks  like  a  fright. 

"  Dan  is  still  the  orator.  And  thus  ends  the 
account  of  our  charming  family. 

"  I've  told  all  I  know  about  the  young  people. 
Tory  Raymond  and  Frank  Joslin  have  reached 
the  point  now,  where  they  do  not  recognize  each 
other  without  an  introduction.  The  only  gentle- 
man whom  Tory  considers  worth  while,  at  present, 
is  Mr.  Wishart.  I  wonder  if  he  notices  this !  He 
seems  to  admire  her,  —  you  know  men  always  ad- 
mire Tory.  Still  he  does  not  choose  to  give  her 
private  lessons,  though  I  know  she  has  insinuated 
very  broadly  that  she  would  like  to  take  them. 
For  a  proud  girl  Tory  is  certainly  peculiar  in  some 
respects,  as  you  and  I  have  often  remarked. 

"  But  you  are  to  recite  with  me.  When  I  spoke 
of  it  to  Mr.  Wishart,  he  highly  approved.  I  know 
you  will  like  him,  —  you  can't  help  it ;  and  I  shall 
be  glad  to  show  him  what  a  nice  girl  I  have  for  a 
friend.  I  think  I  seem  to  him  rather  young  and 


THE  PROFESSOR  AND  MRS.  WYMAN.       151 

uninteresting,  though  he  is  so  very  kind ;  but  I 
am  sure  he  will  see  at  once  that  you  are  of  a 
higher  order  of  being. 

"  He  has  taken  an  immense  fancy  to  mother. 
At  this  moment,  they  two  are  chatting  together 
in  the  sitting-room,  while  father  pores  over  some 
abstruse  reading  in  his  study,  and  Jim  is  out  with 
some  of  the  boys. 

"  Good-by,  dear.     I  shall  write  you  every  week 
till  you  come,  but  not  again  a  long  letter  like  this. 
"  Ever  your  devoted 

"  PAULINE  WYMAN." 

As  Pauline  had  said,  Mr.  Wishart  and  her  mother 
chanced  to  be  alone  together  in  the  sitting-room, 
while  she  was  writing.  Mr.  Wishart  was  not  in  a 
social  mood,  however,  and  met  Mrs.  Wyman's  at- 
tempts at  conversation  with  such  apparent  indif- 
ference, that  she  wondered  he  did  not  quietly  take 
his  leave. 

"  Usually  he  is  so  interesting,"  she  thought, 
as  her  crochet-needle  danced  in  and  out  of  the 
worsted;  "but  I  believe  men  are  alike,  all  the 
world  over ;  they  never  will  talk  unless  they  have 
something  to  say." 

She  did  Mr.  Wishart  injustice.  He  had  some- 
thing important  to  say,  and  was  only  deterred  by 
the  immense  difficulty  of  saying  it.  Yet  here  was 
his  opportunity.  He  had  at  last  found  Mrs.  Wy- 
man  alone,  —  a  rare  event,  —  and  time  was  flying. 
How  to  begin?  Little  matter.  "All  roads  lead 


152  PAULINE   WYMAN. 

to  Rome."  At  the  next  pause  in  the  conversa- 
tion he  would  make  a  random  remark,  and  trust 
to  luck  for  the  rest.  She  happened  to  speak  of 
Colonel  Isaac  Selden  and  his  flower  garden,  and 
he  broke  in  at  right  angles,  — 

"I  have  always  been  much  interested  in  that 
man.  He  seems  to  be  a  favorite  in  your  family." 

"Yes;  we  are  all  deeply  attached  to  Uncle  Ike, 
and  with  excellent  reason." 

"  He  is  very  unlike  an  uncle  of  my  own,  of 
whom  I  have  been  thinking  this  evening,"  said 
Mr.  Wishart. 

And  then  he  paused,  as  if  inwardly  employed 
in  deciding  whether  or  not  it  were  best  to  go  on. 

"  My  great-uncle,  a  wealthy,  eccentric  bachelor." 

Mrs.  Wyman  said,  "  Ah  ?  " 

"  He  had  few  relatives,  but  contrived  to  quarrel 
with  every  one  of  them  except  myself  ;  and  would 
have  quarrelled  with  me,  too,  if  he  had  seen  me 
often  enough.  But,  as  I  lived  at  a  distance,  he 
thought  very  well  of  me,  and  finally  decided  to 
make  me  his  heir." 

Mrs.  Wyman  looked  interested.  It  was  new  to 
her  that  Mr.  Wishart  was  a  man  of  fortune. 

"  He  wrote  me  what  he  proposed  to  do.  But 
he  spoiled  it  all  by  making  a  stipulation.  I'm  sure, 
Mrs.  Wyman,  you  can't  guess  what  it  was,"  said 
Mr.  Wishart,  with  an  embarrassed  laugh. 

"Was  it  something  unreasonable?" 

"  I  thought  so.  But  I  must  tell  you  a  little  more 
about  this  man,  Mr.  Hugh  Wishart.  Tradition 


THE  PROFESSOR  AND  MRS.  WYMAN.       153 

said  he  had  been  disappointed  in  love,  and  disliked 
all  womankind.  At  any  rate,  if  he  made  his  will 
in  my  favor  I  must  solemnly  promise  never  to 
marry." 

"  How  old  were  you  at  the  time  ? " 

"  Seventeen." 

"  And  you  accepted  the  condition,  did  you  ? " 

"  I  declined  it  absolutely." 

"  And  you  were  only  seventeen  ?  " 

Mrs.  Wyman  seemed  to  find  this  rather  amusing. 

"  I  may  as  well  laugh  with  you,  Mrs.  Wyman. 
I  was  a  shy,  studious  lad,  not  given  to  speculating 
on  matrimony.  If  I  thought  about  it  at  all,  I  thought 
people  had  a  better  time  single,  browsing  among 
books.  But  when  it  came  to  coercion  I  couldn't 
stand  that.  No,  I  was  a  freeborn  Briton,  and 
'  Britons  never  shall  be  slaves.'  I  would  marry  or 
not  marry,  just  as  I  chose." 

"  There  you  were  certainly  right,"  said  Mrs. 
Wyman,  still  amused,  though  wondering  a  little 
why  the  young  man  should  have  cared  to  give  her 
this  bit  of  family  history,  and  still  more  why  he 
should  look  so  extremely  uncomfortable  over  it. 

"  I  did  not  think  it  was  so  late,"  he  exclaimed,  as 
the  little  Swiss  clock  on  the  mantel  struck  the  half 
hour  after  ten.  There  seemed  no  good  reason  why 
he  should  not  leave,  but  still  he  lingered,  rolling 
pieces  of  newspaper  into  little  pellets,  as  if  he  had 
been  set  to  do  it  as  a  task. 

"  I  was  only  a  callow  lad  when  I  wrote  that  curt 
reply  to  my  uncle.  All  I  thought  of  was  liberty 


154  PAULINE  WYMAN. 

and  independence.  Of  course  I  had  never  seen  a 
woman  who  moved  my  fancy  —  then." 

He  had  rolled  a  cigarette,  and  was  viewing  his 
handiwork  with  a  shamefaced  air. 

"  That  goes  without  the  saying  —  at  seventeen," 
returned  Mrs.  Wyman,  to  fill  the  pause. 

"  But  now  that  is  no  longer  true.  I  can  no 
longer  say  it.  At  twenty-four  I  came  to  America. 
Mrs.  Wyman,  I  have  seen  —  your  daughter." 

Mrs.  Wyman  was  a  woman  of  foresight  and  in- 
sight, but  this  speech  took  her  completely  by  sur- 
prise. It  would  be  untrue  to  say  she  had  never 
once  thought  of  Mr.  Wishart  in  the  light  of  a  pro- 
spective suitor  for  Pauline.  The  idea  had  occurred 
to  her  again  and  again,  but  only  as  a  remote  possi- 
bility, as  something  which  might  have  to  be  faced 
in  the  far-off  future,  but  not  yet,  oh,  most  certainly 
not  yet ! 

She  had  never  been  quite  easy  to  have  matters 
go  on  as  they  were  going  now.  She  had  always 
blamed  herself  for  listening  to  her  husband  in  the 
first  place  in  regard  to  the  lessons ;  and  now  she 
blamed  herself  still  more  for  her  lack  of  watchful- 
ness. 

"  Do  you  mean  my  little  girl,  our  little  Pauline?" 
said  she  at  last,  looking  so  perturbed  and  alarmed, 
that  it  was  no  wonder  the  young  man's  embarrass- 
ment was  visibly  increased. 

"  Yes,  Mrs.  Wyman,  you  know  now  what  is  in 
my  mind.  I  deemed  it  only  right  that  you  should 
know." 


THE  PROFESSOR  AND  MRS.  WYMAN.       155 

"Right?     Oh,  yes." 

She  was  arranging  her  work-basket  with  care. 
Mr.  Wishart  waited  for  some  moments,  but  she 
did  not  look  up. 

"Am  I  to  understand  — "  he  began,  then 
checked  himself,  and  added,  with  an  increase  of 
dignity,  "  But  you  are  not  the  one  to  blame  me, 
Mrs.  Wyman.  You  are  her  mother,  and  know 
that  she  is  far  and  away  the  most  charming  girl 
in  the  world,  and  that  it  is  utterly  impossible  to 
help  loving  her." 

The  tone  was  manly.  He  might  wince  under 
a  fancied  rebuff,  but  he  would  not  be  humiliated, 
or  own  himself  in  the  wrong.  Mrs.  Wyman  liked 
his  spirit ;  moreover,  he  had  touched  a  responsive 
chord  when  he  appealed  to  her  mother-love.  She 
rose  and  held  out  her  hand  to  him. 

"  Do  not  misunderstand  me,  Professor  Wishart. 
I  have  merely  been  taken  by  surprise.  So  far 
from  blaming  you  for  your  appreciation  of  my 
daughter,  it  is  a  bond  of  sympathy  between  us. 
How  could  it  be  otherwise  ?  But  you  seem  to 
forget,  —  I  must  remind  you,  —  that  Pauline  is 
only  a  child." 

"Ah,  is  that  all?"  cried  the  young  man,  im- 
mensely relieved.  "Am  I  to  understand  that 
that  is  your  sole  objection  to  my  suit?  Why,  if 
that  is  all,  I  can  afford  to  wait !  " 

"  I  think  that  is  all.  But,  of  course,  I  must 
talk  with  her  father." 

"Oh,   to  be   sure,  Mrs.  Wyman;   I  await  the 


156  PAULINE  WYMAN. 

permission  of  both  her  parents.  Now,  doesn't 
that  remark  have  the  true  ring  ? "  he  added,  play- 
fully. "  For  I'm  trying  to  be  a  model  lover,  you 
perceive,  —  one  you  can't  find  any  fault  with.  If 
you  wish  me  to  fall  on  one  knee  before  you,  just 
mention  it ;  I'm  ready." 

"  I  shan't  insist  upon  that,"  laughed  Mrs.  Wy- 
man.  "  But  you  are  behaving  beautifully,  and  I 
shall  tell  Mr.  Wyman  that  I  recommend  you  to 
his  mercy." 

The  young  man  looked  happy.  Evidently  there 
was  small  doubt  in  his  mind  as  to  Mr.  Wyman's 
approval. 

"  Though  I  am  sure  he  will  say,  as  I  do,  that 
our  daughter  is  far  too  young." 

"  For  marriage  ?  Yes.  But  that  is  far  in  the 
future,  Mrs.  Wyman.  I  would  wait  for  years." 

"  But  our  girl  ought  not  to  be  handicapped  by 
love  affairs  yet,  Mr.  Wishart.  It  can't  be  thought 
of  till  she  is  at  least  eighteen,  and  shouldn't  be 
mentioned  till  she  is  twenty." 

"  You  are  cruel.     How  old  is  she  now  ?  " 

"  She  was  seventeen  last  October  ;  and  the  gay- 
est little  creature  till  a  year  ago,  when  she  learned 
that  life  for  her  meant  work.  That  sobered  her 
surprisingly." 

"  Did  it  ?  " 

Mr.  Wishart  had  had  an  intimation  of  this  be- 
fore, but  the  thought  of  Pauline's  soberness  pro- 
voked a  smile.  He  smiled  easily  now,  having  cast 
aside  his  excessive  dignity  of  a  few  minutes  ago. 


THE  PROFESSOR  AND  MRS.  WYMAN.       157 

"What  she  has  been  to  us  for  the  past  year, 
you  partly  know,  Mr.  Wishart.  I  cannot  trust 
myself  to  speak  of  it." 

She  would  have  liked  to  say  a  great  deal,  feel- 
ing so  sure  of  his  warm  interest  in  the  subject. 
They  were  standing  by  the  table,  and  she  laid 
her  hand  impressively  on  his  arm,  as  she  con- 
tinued, — 

"  Thanks  to  you,  she  sees  her  way  clear  to  an 
education  ;  her  life  is  a  dream  of  happiness.  Do 
not  dispel  that  dream,  Mr.  Wishart ;  leave  her 
heart  free  for  six  months  longer." 

"  Would  you  really  be  so  hard  on  me,  Mrs. 
Wyman  ?  Are  you  inexorable  ?  What  if  I  should 
see  a  rival  in  the  field  ?  " 

"  That  would  alter  the  case.  But  there  is  no 
such  danger  at  present.  Pauline  is  too  much  ab- 
sorbed in  her  studies.  And  then,  too,  she  is  the 
most  unconscious  creature." 

"  I  know  it,  Mrs.  Wyman.  Her  unconscious- 
ness is  her  greatest  charm.  It  is  a  gift.  Most 
of  us  go  through  life  watching  our  own  shadows ; 
she  never  sees  hers,  —  hardly  knows  she  has  one. 
But  I'll  not  detain  you  longer,"  said  he,  moving 
toward  the  door,  "though  nothing  would  please 
me  better  than  to  discuss  Pauline's  perfections 
with  her  mother." 

Mrs.  Wyman's  mouth  went  up  at  the  corners. 
The  young  man  had  completely  won  her  over, 
as  he  must  have  seen. 

"  Mr.  Wyman  knows  my  plans  and  prospects. 


158  PAULINE   WYMAN. 

I've  often  talked  with  him."  He  turned  back  with 
his  hand  on  the  door-knob. 

"  And  you  really  expect  me  to  maintain  the 
bearing  of  an  iceberg  toward  your  daughter  for 
months  to  come  ?  Do  you  think  you're  giving  the 
heart  its  rights  ?  " 

There  were  footsteps  on  the  gravel-path. 

"  Now,  Mr.  Wishart,"  said  Mrs.  Wyman,  hur- 
riedly, "  don't  go  away  feeling  so  injured.  Reflect 
on  what  I've  said,  and  tell  me  by  and  by  if  you 
don't  see  the  matter  from  my  standpoint." 

"  My  head  is  of  your  opinion  already,  Mrs. 
Wyman,"  said  the  young  man,  ingenuously,  "and 
my  heart  may  follow,  — sometime." 

He  looked  very  handsome  as  he  spoke,  and 
withal  so  virile  and  so  assured  of  himself,  that 
Mrs.  Wyman  thought,  "  He  is  a  man  I  can  trust, 
even  without  a  promise." 

She  lay  awake  far  into  the  night,  not  yet  ready 
to  talk  the  matter  over  with  her  husband. 

"  I  like  the  young  man.  I  like  what  he  said, 
and  the  way  he  said  it.  But  my  only  daughter, 
let  me  hold  you  fast  while  I  may !  Who  was  it 
that  said,  '  A  woman  may  hope  to  be  an  angel 
some  day,  but  she  can  never  be  a  girl  again '  ? 
Pauline,  little  Pauline,  your  mother  knows  those 
words  are  true.  And  girlhood  is  a  thing  too  fair 
and  sweet  to  lose." 


XIV. 

THE  "TROUT-FLY." 

IT  was  three  o'clock  of  a  warm  afternoon  in 
September,  and  Eva  Hallett,  a  very  tall,  fair-haired 
girl  of  rather  commanding  presence,  was  on  her 
way  to  the  old  Wyman  place.  She  had  just  met 
Mrs.  Wyman,  and  learned  that  Pauline  was  at 
home  for  a  half-holiday. 

"  And  I'm  sure  you  want  to  go  out  rowing,  Paul- 
ine," said  Eva,  entering  the  house  unannounced. 
"  Now  don't  say  you're  too  busy.  I  have  an  errand 
at  the  Aliens'  and  might  have  taken  my  wheel, 
but  prefer  the  Trout-Fly  for  a  change." 

"The  Trout-Fly  feels  honored,"  said  Pauline, 
curtseying.  "  Wait  for  me  two  minutes." 

"  Now,  girls,  I  wouldn't,"  remonstrated  Mrs. 
Rix,  from  her  chair  by  the  kitchen  window.  "  It's 
eleven  days  since  we've  had  a  drop  of  rain,  and 
the  sky  looks  to  me  as  if  we'd  got  to  catch  it." 

"  Here  comes  father,"  said  Pauline,  "  I'll  ask  him. 
Father,  \io  you  think  'twill  rain  this  afternoon  ? " 

Mr.  Wyman  went  to  the  dining-room  windows, 
and  looked  out  leisurely. 

"  I'm  afraid  not." 

"  There,  I  thought  it  wouldn't.  We  want  to  go 
rowing,  father,  and  if  a  shower  should  come  up 
we  could  put  ashore  almost  anywhere,  you  know." 

159 


160  PAULINE   WYMAN. 

"You'll  run  very  little  risk,  I'm  thinking,"  said 
he,  with  an  introspective  smile. 

Mrs.  Rix  looked  at  him  in  silence.  She  stood 
greatly  in  awe  of  his  book-lore,  but  his  weather- 
wisdom  was  as  naught  to  her.  When  he  was 
fairly  out  of  hearing  she  went  on  as  if  there  had 
been  no  interruption. 

"  Yes,  the  sky's  what  I  call  threatening.  I  may 
be  wrong,  but  the  old  saying  is,  — 

" '  A  mackerel  sky  and  gray  mares'  tails 
Make  lofty  ships  carry  low  sails.' " 

"  Oh,  the  Trout-Fly  always  carries  low  sails," 
laughed  the  girls,  not  much  impressed  by  the 
sonorous  doggerel. 

They  ran  along  the  bank  toward  Pauline's  boat, 
which  was  moored  just  above  the  bridge.  The 
sky  was  slightly  veiled,  tempering  the  oppressive 
heat.  Farmers  had  been  cutting  the  aftermath, 
which  lay  in  rows  along  the  fields,  and  the  trees 
were  in  various  stages  of  preparation  for  their 
autumn  masquerading.  The  willows  had  scarcely 
changed ;  the  leaves  of  the  locust  were  tipped  with 
yellow ;  some  of  the  maples  were  still  green,  show- 
ing here  and  there  patches  of  blinding  color  ;  others 
had  turned  throughout  to  a  deep  crimson.  On  a 
dark  background  of  pines  were  interspersed  pop- 
lar leaves  like  drops  of  gold.  A  woodbine  curled 
about  one  of  the  elms  like  a  living  flame ;  and  at 
the  foot  of  this  elm,  between  two  sheltering  rocks, 
drowsed  Pauline's  Trout-Fly. 


THE    "TROUT-FLY."  161 

"  What  perfect  shadows  !  "  said  Pauline,  as  they 
entered  the  boat  and  began  to  row  up  the  river, 
which  seemed  to  be  dyed  red  and  yellow  from  the 
reflections  of  the  trees  on  the  banks.  "  '  Who  is 
this  that  cometh  from  Edom  with  dyed  gar- 
ments ? '  Eva  Hallett,  watch  these  pictures  be- 
fore we  cut  into  them  with  our  oars !  There  on 
the  bank  are  the  willows  like  green  billows,  there 
are  the  silver  poplars  half  turned  to  gold.  And 
here,  behold  them  in  the  water,  —  just  the  same 
thing  over,  not  a  leaf  missing." 

"  I  know  it ;  the  soil  of  this  river-bed  is  very 
dark,  and  that  is  the  reason  the  reflections  are  so 
wonderfully  clear." 

"  Yes ;  but  don't  be  scientific  and  geographical, 
Miss  Hallett.  How  long  it  has  been  since  we 
used  to  take  boat-rides  together !  It's  so  good  to 
have  a  playday  once  in  a  while." 

Eva  looked  at  her  friend  pityingly.  For  her- 
self life  held  no  stern  necessity  of  work,  and  she 
secretly  wondered  at  the  sweetness  with  which 
Pauline  accepted  her  treadmill  round  of  duties. 
It  did  not  seem  like  her. 

"  Here  we  are  by  the  '  fairies'  ring,'  "  said  Pau- 
line, as  they  approached  a  worn  circle  in  the  grass, 
high  up  on  the  left  bank.  "  When  I  was  a  child 
I  really  believed,  didn't  you,  that  some  mischiev- 
ous fairies  had  danced  there  in  a  'ring-round- 
rosy.' 

" '  Where  such  fairies  once  have  danced 
No  grass  will  ever  grow.' " 

M 


162  PAULINE  WYMAN. 

"  No,  Pauline  Wyman,  I  never  saw  the  time 
when  I  believed  in  any  such  nonsense.  I  can  tell 
you  the  history  of  that  fairies'  ring.  Old  Mr.  Pot- 
ter kept  a  sheep  tethered  there  long  time  ago  ; 
and  as  the  sheep  went  round  and  round  grazing, 
it  nibbled  the  grass  down  so  close,  that  it  killed 
the  roots.  That's  the  way  with  sheep." 

"  And  that's  the  way  with  prosy  creatures,  like 
you,  to  store  up  such  stupid  facts.  I'm  ashamed 
of  you  !  It's  so  much  more  interesting  to  believe 
in  fairies  than  sheep !  But  where's  our  rain  ? 
Aunt  Roxy'll  be  ashamed  of  all  her  croaking." 

"  Yes ;  won't  she  ?  It's  what  may  be  called  a 
dead  calm." 

"  Let's  break  it,"  laughed  Pauline,  "  the  way  the 
Scotch  do." 

"  How  is  that  ? " 

"  Oh,  it's  easy  enough.  A  Scotch  sailor  just 
sticks  a  knife  into  the  forward  part  of  the  main- 
mast,—  just  this  way,"  playfully  inserting  her 
penknife  into  the  bow  of  the  boat.  "  There,  see 
what  that  will  do." 

Pauline  seemed  in  a  rollicking  mood,  to-day. 
They  rowed  on  for  some  time,  discussing  what 
they  would  have  for  fall  hats,  and  chatting  of  a 
thousand  other  trivial  things,  as  two  light-hearted 
girls  may  who  have  been  intimate  all  their  lives, 
and  are  off  "  on  holiday." 

"  Isn't  Professor  Wishart  delightful  ?  "  said  Eva. 
"  I'm  so  fortunate  in  having  his  help,  though  I 
know  all  the  interest  he  takes  in  me  is  for  your 


THE   "TROUT-FLY."  163 

sake.  There's  nothing  like  having  a  friend  at 
court." 

"  Father  and  mother  are  your  friends  at  court, 
Eva.  It's  precious  little  that  the  man  cares  for 
me,"  returned  Pauline,  with  grim  sincerity. 

James  had  said  two  months  ago,  — 

"  Isn't  it  rather  hard  on  Wishart,  keeping  up 
this  thing  so  far  into  the  summer  ? " 

Pauline  did  not  know  that  Jim  had  his  own  pri- 
vate grievance,  and  objected  to  Eva's  being  in  the 
class,  and  absorbing  so  much  of  the  young  Eng- 
lishman's attention.  She  never  suspected  Jim's 
jealousy,  but  took  his  remarks  to  heart,  and 
thought  Mr.  Wishart  ought  to  be  relieved  of  the 
lessons.  Sometime  she  meant  to  say  this  to  Eva, 
but  not  just  yet 

"  How  we  do  chatter,  to-day !  "  she  exclaimed, 
when  they  had  finally  got  around  to  fall  hats 
again. 

"Yes,  Pauline,  we've  been  separated  so  long, 
that  it  seems  as  if  we  never  should  catch  up.  I 
don't  believe,  dearie,  I've  ever  tried  to  tell  you 
how  much  you've  improved.  When  I  first  came 
home,  I  was  rather  overwhelmed ;  for  I  always 
thought  —  of  course  I  did  —  that  I  was  rather 
better  than  you.  But  now  — 

"  Eva  Hallett,  if  you're  going  to  flatter  me,  just 
mention  it,  and  I'll  drop  you  out  of  the  boat." 

"  Don't !  I  was  only  going  to  say  you  are  a 
witch ;  for,  look  here,  Pauline,  you  did  break  that 
calm  with  your  penknife." 


164  PAULINE  WYMAN. 

"  So  I  did.  The  wind  is  actually  rising,  a  west 
wind  ;  and  it's  rather  hard  rowing  up-stream.  I've 
been  noticing  that  for  the  past  five  minutes." 

"  So  have  I.     Take  out  the  penknife,  Pauline." 

The  gray  mares'  tails  were  growing  bushier  and 
darker,  particularly  in  the  west ;  but  Pauline  chose 
to  ignore  this  trivial  fact. 

"  I  wish  the  sun  hadn't  so  retiring  a  disposi- 
tion," was  all  she  said,  as  his  face  vanished  tem- 
porarily under  an  inky  cloud. 

"It  is  hard  rowing,"  said  Eva,  leaning  a  moment 
on  her  oar.  "  If  it  blows  like  this,  I,  for  one,  don't 
care  to  go  any  farther  up  than  the  Aliens'." 

"  Neither  do  I.  We  came  for  fun,  not  hard 
work.  Here  we  are  right  in  front  of  the  Aliens' 
house.  I'll  land  you,  and  wait  for  you  in  the 
boat.  How  long  will  it  take  you  ?  " 

"  Fifteen  minutes  or  so ;  just  to  say  two  words 
about  that  dress  Fanny  is  making  for  me.  But 
why  don't  you  beach  the  boat  and  come  with  me, 
—  for  fear  of  a  shower  ? " 

"  'Twould  take  too  long  to  fasten  and  unfasten 
the  boat,"  said  Pauline,  looking  at  the  clouds. 
"We  want  to  get  home  before  it  rains." 

"  I  agree  with  you,"  said  Eva,  alighting  rather 
hurriedly.  "I'll  be  as  quick  as  I  can.  I'm  glad 
the  wind  is  west,  for  'twill  help  us  home." 

"  But  it  isn't  west  now ;  it  was  when  we  spoke 
of  it,"  returned  Pauline,  "but  now  it's  east.  It's 
what  Mrs.  Rix  calls  'shifty." 

Before  Eva  had    fairly  climbed   the  bank,  the 


THE   "TROUT-FLY."  165 

"  shifty "  nature  of  the  wind  became  still  more 
apparent.  It  seemed  to  blow  from  all  points  at 
once ;  and  waiting  in  the  boat  bade  fair  to  be 
an  entirely  different  matter  from  what  Pauline 
had  expected  when  she  proposed  it. 

The  coquettish  young  Trout-Fly  was  full  of 
vagaries,  and  to  keep  her  reasonably  sedate  was 
out  of  the  question.  Seeing  this,  Pauline  ought  at 
once  to  have  changed  her  purpose  and  followed 
Eva ;  it  was  a  great  error  of  judgment  to  risk  the 
water  just  now.  But  tempests  are  not  common  in 
New  England ;  she  had  never  encountered  one  on 
the  water,  and  it  really  did  not  occur  to  her  at 
first  to  be  afraid. 

"Well,  Miss  Trout-Fly"  said  she,  in  an  indul- 
gent tone,  "  if  you're  determined  to  go,  we'll  go ; 
but  please  specify  which  way." 

The  Trout-Fly  answered  by  inclining  playfully 
toward  the  further  bank. 

"  Very  well ;  that  way  then !  " 

The  wind  increased.  The  silver  birches  on  the 
bank  bent  nearly  double,  the  water  was  lashed 
into  waves,  and  suddenly  there  were  flashes  of 
lightning,  with  low  peals  of  thunder. 

"Well,  this  is  a  situation,"  said  Pauline,  as  heavy 
drops  of  rain  began  to  fall.  "  Why  didn't  I  land 
with  Eva  ?  Some  people  haven't  sense  enough 
to  go  in  when  it  rains !  Well,  I'll  land  now,  and 
we'll  walk  home  together." 

She  began  to  turn  toward  the  left  bank.  Too 
late!  She  had  always  boasted  that  her  boat 


166  PAULINE   WYMAN. 

knew  her  as  a  horse  knows  his  rider ;  but  now 
the  Trout-Fly  ignored  her  acquaintance  altogether, 
and  brooked  no  control.  To  the  north  bank  she 
would  not  turn,  up-stream  she  would  not  go.  She 
was  bent  on  a  devious  and  uncertain  downward 
course. 

In  vain  Pauline  plied  the  oars.  She  could  suc- 
ceed only  in  delaying  this  mad  rush  down  river, 
and  making  the  Ttvut-Ffywlui]  around  and  around 
in  a  dizzy  maze. 

"  Hurrying,  hurrying,  never  getting  anywhere, 
any  more  than  the  leaves  on  those  trees.  But 
if  I  can  hold  my  own,  it's  all  I  ask  for." 

The  loneliness  was  oppressive.  Where  were  all 
the  boats  which  were  usually  to  be  seen  coming 
and  going  with  parties  of  young  people  ?  Now 
she  thought  of  it,  not  a  single  boat  had  met  or 
passed  them  this  afternoon.  Mr.  Wishart  rowed 
almost  every  day  after  class  hours ;  and  for  some 
reason,  or  more  likely  for  no  reason  at  all,  she 
half  expected  to  see  him.  He  had  a  singular 
way  of  happening  along  at  the  very  time  he  was 
needed,  and  when  had  he  ever  been  more  needed 
than  now  ?  A  moment's  reflection  assured  her, 
however,  that  he  would  not  be  on  the  river  to- 
day; there  was  the  advantage  of  being  a  man, 
and  having  a  few  grains  of  common  sense ! 

She  had  become  thoroughly  drenched,  but  this 
was  only  a  minor  discomfort.  Was  she  holding 
her  own  ?  that  was  the  question.  She  had  not 
begun  to  ask  what  the  end  would  be. 


THE   "TROUT-FLY."  167 

The  sky  was  now  of  a  murky  darkness,  almost 
black.  She  could  see  the  outline  of  her  white 
boat  above  the  water,  but  could  scarcely  distin- 
guish the  banks  on  either  side  except  during  the 
flashes  of  lightning.  The  Aliens  lived  a  little 
more  than  three  quarters  of  a  mile  above  the 
bridge.  For  a  long  time  she  was  certainly  keep- 
ing nearly  opposite  their  house ;  but  now,  to  her 
dismay,  the  lightning  revealed  the  fact  that  she 
had  drifted  a  few  rods  below  it. 

But  she  could  have  done  no  better;  she  had 
exerted  all  her  strength.  If  she  should  let  the 
boat  have  its  own  way  it  would  do  one  of  three 
things :  rush  against  the  piers  of  the  bridge, 
strike  the  right  bank,  or  capsize  against  the  hidden 
rocks,  which  were  so  easily  avoided  in  still  water 
or  a  good  light.  In  any  event  she  was  in  evil 
case,  and  by  this  time  fully  aware  of  it. 

"  It  makes  you  feel  as  if  it  weren't  of  much  con- 
sequence about  fall  hats,"  thought  the  poor  wan- 
derer, recalling  bits  of  her  light-hearted  chat  with 
Eva. 

Eva  must  have  done  her  errand  long  ago,  —  it 
was  probably  about  half-past  four  o'clock,  —  and 
would  now  be  at  the  water's  edge  calling  out  for 
the  boat. 

Hark!  was  that  her  call?  The  wind  and  water 
were  both  so  loud  that  it  was  impossible  to  tell. 
A  human  voice  could  hardly  be  distinguished 
above  the  din.  Still,  Pauline  lost  no  time  in 
answering.  She  called  out  to  the  turbulent  storm 


168  PAULINE   WYMAN. 

as  if  Eva  were  a  part  of  it,  and  had  ubiquitous 
ears. 

"  Hello  !  Eva !  Hello  !     I  can't  land  !  " 

She  had  little  hope  of  Eva's  hearing  her,  yet 
again  and  again  she  shouted  the  words.  The 
electric  lamps  on  street  and  bridge  shone  for  a 
few  moments,  then  went  out  ignominiously  ;  they 
could  not  live  in  such  a  storm. 

Darkness  everywhere.  Where  would  she  be 
when  there  was  light  again  on  the  face  of  the 
waters  ?  Where  ?  No  matter  where.  She  "  could 
not  be  where  God  is  not."  And  the  words  came 
to  her,  "God's  music  will  not  finish  with  one 
tune."  Where  had  she  heard  that  ?  What  did  it 
mean  ?  She  said  it  over  and  over,  and  it  soothed 
her  like  a  lullaby.  Then  she  remembered  that 
when  people  are  freezing  they  must  not  be 
soothed,  they  must  be  roused.  Perhaps  she  was 
freezing,  she  was  certainly  cold. 

She  bestirred  herself  with  a  masterly  effort,  and 
tried  to  row  up-stream  against  the  current.  She 
was  awake  now. 

"  I  must  not  die,"  she  said.  "  Don't  let  me  die, 
there  are  so  many  depending  upon  me ! " 

Was  it  not  a  touching  appeal  ?  In  that  supreme 
moment,  knowing  that  she  faced  death,  she  forgot 
self  and  thought  only  of  others. 

Life  was  sweet,  no  girl  in  the  happy  teens 
could  well  have  found  it  sweeter ;  but  it  was  a  life 
of  service.  She  knew  and  God  knew  that  the 
dear  ones  at  home  needed  her;  they  could  not 
spare  her  yet. 


"'Hello!    Eva!    Hello!     I  can't  land!  '"  —  Page  168. 


THE   "TROUT-FLY."  169 

"  Dont  let  me  die,  there  are  so  many  depending 
upon  me ! " 

Her  overtasked  strength  was  giving  way;  she 
could  no  longer  pull  a  stroke. 

"  Father,  help  me,  I  cannot  help  myself,"  she 
murmured ;  the  oars  fell  from  her  hands,  and  she 
lay  back  in  the  boat  faint  and  spent,  with  the 
lullaby  in  her  ears,  — 

"Will  not  finish,  will  not  finish  —  with  one 
tune." 

All  was  now  in  her  Father's  hands ;  she  waited 
to  see  what  He  would  do. 


XV. 

"  i  THOUGHT'YOU  WOULD  COME." 

IT  was  really  Eva  Hallett's  voice  that  had 
called  to  Pauline,  but  Pauline's  reply  had  been 
lost  in  the  storm.  Eva  strained  her  ears  to  listen, 
and  then  thought,  with  some  misgiving,  — 

"  Pauline  has  gone  home,  or  she  would  an- 
swer me." 

Then  she  herself  hurried  homeward  as  fast  as 
wind  and  rain  would  permit.  There  was  nothing 
else  to  be  done.  She  went  first  to  the  mooring- 
place  to  look  for  the  boat.  It  was  not  there. 

For  the  first  time  thoroughly  alarmed,  she  ran 
out  on  the  bridge  to  call  for  help. 

"  Pauline  Wyman  is  out  in  a  boat,  out  in  a  boat," 
she  cried  to  the  first  person  she  met,  not  waiting 
to  see  that  it  was  old  Mrs.  Pettijohn,  nicknamed 
by  the  boys,  "  Mother  Carey's  Chicken,"  because 
of  her  propensity  for  straying  abroad  in  the  very 
worst  weather. 

"  Dear  heart,  Paulighny  Wyman,  did  you  say  ? 
Has  she  been  out  in  this  hurricane  ? "  responded 
the  good  soul  from  her  wagon-seat,  her  voice  all 
a-quiver  with  unavailing  pity. 

"  Pauline  Wyman  ? "  echoed  a  boy,  his  mouth 
full  of  spruce  gum,  which  he  never  ceased  chew- 

170 


"I   THOUGHT   YOU  WOULD   COME."         171 

ing.  It  was  half-witted  Jake  Farrand;  but  a  man 
stopped  short,  hearing  the  name  the  boy  uttered. 

"Pauline  Wyman !  What  of  her?"  cried  Mr. 
Wishart. 

"  On  the  river  in  a  boat.  Go  as  fast  as  you 
can !  "  shouted  Eva,  like  one  speaking  a  ship  in 
a  storm,  though  Mr.  Wishart  was  close  by  her  side. 
She  was  strongly  excited,  and  there  was  cause. 

"What  part  of  the  river?"  he  asked,  rushing 
past  her  to  get  to  his  boat,  which  he  kept  moored 
just  below  the  bridge. 

"Oh,  I  don't  know  what  part!  When  I  left 
her  an  hour  ago,  she  was  three-quarters  of  a  mile 
up-stream ;  but  there's  no  telling  where  she  is 
now;  whirling  and  drifting,  maybe.  Oh,  do  you 
suppose  she's  gone  down  ?  " 

"  Run  for  her  brother  James.  He  is  on  the 
street  somewhere.  Tell  him  to  row  down-stream. 
I  will  row  up." 

As  Mr.  Wishart  said  this  he  was  already  in  his 
boat,  shouting  back  to  Eva  on  the  bank.  Eva's 
story  was  incomprehensible.  If  she  had  been  out 
rowing  with  Pauline,  why  was  she  not  with  her 
now  ?  Where  had  she  landed,  and  how  had  she 
arrived  here  to  tell  the  tale  ?  But  he  could  not 
pause  for  questions  and  explanations. 

The  hurricane  had  abated,  though  the  rain  was 
still  falling,  and  in  the  unaccustomed  darkness  he 
could  see  but  a  short  distance  ahead.  There  was 
no  boat  visible  and  no  sound  of  oars,  yet  he  did 
not  cease  calling  out,  — 


172  PAULINE   WYMAN. 

"  Hello,  we're  coming  for  you,  Pauline.  Speak ! 
Hello !  Where  are  you  ? " 

There  was  no  answer.  He  had  only  the  merest 
speculation  to  guide  him.  In  his  brief  conference 
with  Eva  he  had  learned  that  the  last  known  of 
Pauline  she  was  three-fourths  of  a  mile  above  the 
bridge ;  but  that  was  an  hour  ago,  during  the  dread- 
ful tornado.  If  she  had  then  lost  control  of  her 
boat,  which  was  very  probable,  he  thought  she 
would  drift  diagonally  downward,  and  if  not  stopped 
in  her  course  might  now  be  a  mile  below  the  bridge, 
perhaps  further.  In  that  case  James  might  find 
her. 

"  Hello!  "  he  shouted  for  the  twentieth  time.  At 
that  moment  an  opportune  flash  of  lightning  re- 
vealed a  boat  spinning  aimlessly  around,  not  many 
rods  above  the  bridge  near  the  south  bank.  It  had 
an  occupant,  a  reclining  figure ;  he  saw  it  for  an 
instant  distinctly.  He  made  for  the  boat  with  all 
speed,  calling  out  encouragingly,  — 

"  Here  we  are,  Pauline,  here  we  are  !  " 

Another  flash  of  lightning  gave  him  a  glimpse 
of  a  luminous  pale  face,  Pauline's  beyond  a  doubt. 
Joyful  assurance !  But  why  was  she  so  quiet  ?  He 
thought  she  must  have  fainted,  but  when  his  boat 
came  so  near  hers  that  the  bows  touched,  and  he 
repeated,  "  Oh,  Pauline,  dear  Pauline,  we've  come 
for  you,"  there  was  a  low  murmur  in  response. 
He  bent  his  head,  and  caught  the  half-articulated 
words,  — 

"I  —  thought  —  you  —  would  —  come." 


"1   THOUGHT   YOU   WOULD   COME."         173 

At  the  moment  she  had  no  idea  what  she  was 
saying.  Long  ago,  before  the  oars  dropped  from 
her  hands,  before  she  had  the  wild  feeling  in  her 
head,  she  had  vaguely  hoped  Mr.  Wishart  might 
come ;  and  now  in  the  half-understood  relief  of 
hearing  his  voice,  and  knowing  he  was  there,  she 
told  this  thought  without  reserve,  speaking  like 
one  in  a  dream. 

"  You  thought  I  would  come  ?  That  was  very 
strange,"  said  he,  wonderingly,  yet  with  a  note  of 
joy  in  his  voice. 

And  then  it  occurred  to  him  that  she  might  have 
mistaken  him  for  her  brother  James. 

"You  know  me,  Pauline  ?    It  is  Allan  Wishart." 

"  Yes,  I  know." 

It  was  necessary  to  tow  the  Trout-Fly.  He  pro- 
ceeded to  fasten  the  two  crafts  together  with  the 
painter  of  his  own  boat.  There  was  no  trouble 
or  danger  now,  and  Pauline  began  to  draw  long 
breaths  of  ineffable  content,  but  did  not  speak 
again  and  scarcely  moved.  She  was  evidently  suf- 
fering from  extreme  exhaustion. 

Mr.  Wishart  rowed  on  in  silence,  trying  not  to 
think  what  might  have  happened  if  his  coming 
had  been  delayed,  and  the  little  Trout-Fly  had  had 
its  insane  way  till  it  reached  the  piers. 

As  he  touched  the  bank,  James  Wyman  and  Ned 
Hallett  both  cried,  — 

"  Oh,  is  she  there  ? " 

Eva  Hallett  had  met  James  coming  out  of  the 
town  library,  and  he  and  Ned  were  just  starting  «v 


174  PAULINE   WYMAN. 

now  on  the  quest  Ned  had  a  lantern  swung  on 
his  arm. 

"  Here,  safe  and  sound,"  said  Mr.  Wishart 
"  Let  us  take  her  out  in  our  arms  and  carry  her 
up  the  bank." 

But  Pauline  would  not  have  it  so.  She  had 
rallied  by  this  time,  and  insisted  upon  walking 
between  James  and  Ned,  though  lamenting  her 
dripping  condition.  She  remembered  the  remark 
she  had  made  to  Mr.  Wishart,  and  was  sure  he 
had  called  it  "very  strange."  She  dropped  her 
blushing  face.  What  could  he  have  thought  of 
her? 

"  I  suppose  he  thinks  the  more  he  does  for  me 
the  more  I  expect  him  to  do.  He  must  be  tired 
of  it  by  this  time,  of  being  so  kind  to  a  girl  who 
takes  everything  for  granted." 

This  was  not  the  first  time  the  idea  had  entered 
her  mind,  but  it  came  now  with  crushing  force. 
Hardly  a  word  was  said  by  any  of  the  little  party. 
Mr.  Wishart  had  raised  his  finger  to  enjoin  silence 
upon  the  boys,  and  really,  they  were  both  so  full 
of  suppressed  emotion  that  they  could  hardly  trust 
themselves  to  speak. 

But  Pauline  felt  that  something  must  be  said. 

"  I  haven't  thanked  you,  Mr.  Wishart.  I  can't, 
I  haven't  any  words,"  she  gasped.  "  I  suppose  I 
acted  strangely  when  you  —  came  to  me.  I  didn't 
know  where  I  was,  the  boat  was  whirling,  whirl- 
ing so." 

This  was  meant  as  an  explanation  and  apology 


"I   THOUGHT   YOU   WOULD   COME."         175 

to  Mr.  Wishart,  but  James  did  not  know  it,  and 
said  tenderly,  — 

"There,  dear,  don't  talk.  No  wonder  you  lost 
your  grip.  'Twas  a  regular  Western  cyclone." 

"  And  we  never  dreamed  you  were  out  in  it," 
added  Ned,  with  a  shudder. 

But  Pauline  could  not  be  silent. 

"  Don't  touch  me,  boys,  either  of  you.  I'm  in 
such  a  dripping  condition,  a  perfect  '  maid  of  the 
mist' " 

She  withdrew  from  them,  holding  herself  erect 
enough,  though  her  gait  was  rather  uncertain. 

"  Before  you  found  me,  Mr.  Wishart,  you  know 
the  boat  ran  away  with  me.  I  did  not  know  where 
I  was ;  I  think  I  was  stunned." 

"No  doubt  of  it,"  said  Mr.  Wishart,  "but  do 
take  my  arm." 

"  Here,  you  poor  thing,  walk  between  us  again ; 
don't  talk,"  said  James. 

Under  ordinary  circumstances  he  would  have 
been  ready  with  a  good  scolding.  What  had 
those  girls  been  thinking  about  to  venture  on  the 
river  in  this  kind  of  weather?  But  he  could  not 
scold  now;  the  escape  had  been  too  frightfully 
narrow. 

Pauline's  behavior  was  extraordinary.  Was  half 
her  brain  still  asleep  ?  It  really  seemed  as  if  she 
retained  but  two  impressions  of  her  late  awful 
experience :  one  was  that  she  was  dripping  wet, 
the  other  that  she  had  been  stunned. 

"  I've  heard  people  speak  of  being  stunned,"  she 


176  PAULINE   WYMAN. 

said  slowly  and  musingly ;  "  I  never  knew  what  it 
meant  before." 

"How  she  does  harp  on  one  string,"  thought 
James  ;  "  her  mind  isn't  quite  right ;  "  and  he  gave 
Mr.  Wishart's  arm  a  significant  pinch. 

"  Mr.  Wishart,"  asked  Pauline,  anxiously,  "  were 
you  ever  stunned  ?  " 

"  No,  of  course  he  never  was,"  said  James,  "  and 
doesn't  want  to  hear  you  talk  about  it.  Don't  try 
to  talk,  Paul." 

But  Mr.  Wishart  thought  best  to  fall  in  with  her 
mood. 

"  I've  heard  people  describe  the  sensation, 
Pauline.  Perhaps  you  felt  as  Dr.  Livingstone 
said  he  did  when  he  was  shaken  by  a  lion,  'a 
merciful  indifference  as  to  what  was  to  come 
after.' " 

"Oh,  I  did,  I  did.     I  never  can  tell  you  —  " 

"  And  we  don't  want  to  hear,"  protested  James, 
grasping  her  suddenly  as  she  was  about  to  fall 
forward. 

They  were  near  home  now,  and  he  and  Ned 
carried  her  the  rest  of  the  way  in  their  arms.  She 
offered  no  resistance,  and  did  not  even  speak 
again. 

Fortunately  there  had  been  no  excitement  at 
the  Wymans,  no  one  imagining  for  a  moment 
that  either  of  the  girls  had  been  out  in  the  heart 
of  the  storm.  Pauline  would  naturally  remain  at 
the  Halletts  to  tea,  and  Mr.  Wyman  was  talking  of 
having  Dan  harness  Selim  and  drive  over  for  her. 


"I   THOUGHT  YOU   WOULD   COME."         177 

"  It  rains  too  hard  now,"  said  his  wife.  "  And 
if  it  doesn't  clear  off,  she  will  be  only  too  glad  to 
spend  the  night  with  Eva." 

Even  as  she  spoke  the  dear  child  was  coming 
in  at  the  hall  door,  though  not  with  her  spring- 
ing step  and  merry  smile.  No ;  her  face  lay  up- 
turned on  her  brother's  shoulder,  white  and  still. 
For  the  first  time  in  her  life  Pauline  had  fainted 
away. 

There  was  intense  surprise  and  alarm  before 
the  hasty  explanations  could  be  given.  It  was 
hard  to  believe  that  this  limp,  white  girl  had  not 
been  taken  out  of  the  river  bodily,  for  her  appear- 
ance closely  resembled  that  of  a  person  just  res- 
cued from  drowning. 

There  were  several  minutes,  and  they  seemed 
like  hours,  before  Pauline  recovered  consciousness. 

"  Don't  she  look  saintish,  though  ? "  sobbed 
Mrs.  Rix,  kneeling  before  her,  with  the  camphor 
bottle.  "  I  guess  'twould  have  been  a  slim  chance 
for  her,  if  they  hadn't  got  her  out  of  the  bo't  just 
when  they  did." 

And  in  the  privacy  of  her  heart  the  good 
woman  thanked  the  Lord  not  only  that  her  pet 
lamb  was  saved,  but  that  she  herself  was  on 
hand  to  minister  to  the  family  on  this  trying 
occasion. 

"  The  poor  child  has  had  a  terrible  strain,  but 
a  night's  sleep  will  set  her  right  again,"  said  Mr. 
Wyman,  who,  despite  his  occasional  "moods," 
was  naturally  optimistic. 


178  PAULINE   WYMAN. 

He  stood  in  the  hall,  speaking  to  Mr.  Wishart 
and  Ned  Hallett 

"  She's  so  young  and  strong,"  said  Ned.  "  Are 
you  going,  Mr.  Wishart  ?  " 

But  the  professor  lingered  a  few  moments  after 
Ned  had  left ;  he  found  it  difficult  to  tear  himself 
away. 

"  May  I  call  early  to-morrow  morning  to  inquire 
for  her?  "  he  asked;  and  her  father  thought  none 
the  worse  of  him  that  there  were  tears  in  his  eyes. 

"  Come,  by  all  means,  Allan ;  come  as  early  as 
you  please,"  said  he,  taking  both  the  young  man's 
hands  in  his  own.  "  And  remember,  that  her 
mother  and  I  are  not  only  grateful,  but  we  shall 
always  love  you  for  having  saved  her  precious  life." 

Allan  Wishart  hardly  needed  this  assurance, 
still  it  was  pleasant  to  him ;  and  as  he  followed 
and  overtook  Ned  Hallett,  in  the  pouring  rain, 
his  heart  was  lighter  than  it  had  been  for  many  a 
day.  He  repeated  to  himself  Pauline's  words,  "  I 
thought  you  would  come,"  and  wished  he  could  be 
sure  that  her  mind  had  really  turned  to  him  in  her 
extremity.  Until  a  short  time  ago,  he  had  con- 
sidered her  the  most  transparent  of  human  beings, 
but  of  late  she  often  perplexed  him.  It  seemed 
to  him  just  possible  that  this  evening's  adventure 
might  restore  them  to  their  old  relations.  If  he 
could  only  be  to  her  once  more  a  dear  and  trusted 
friend,  it  was  all  he  would  ask  —  just  now. 

It  took  more  than  a  night's  sleep  to  "  set  Paul- 
ine right  again."  Mrs.  Rix  told  Cinthy  Potter, 


"I   THOUGHT   YOU   WOULD   COME."         179 

next  day,  'twas  "  'most  a  doubt  if  she  got  through 
it  without  a  fever;"  but  this  prediction  proved 
happily  wrong,  and  by  Tuesday,  though  still  pale 
and  languid,  she  declared  herself  able  to  go  back 
to  the  office.  Up  to  this  time  she  had  declined 
to  see  Professor  Wishart. 

"  I'm  so  grateful  to  him  that  I  can't  trust  my- 
self, mother.  You  know  how  I  laugh  and  cry 
in  a  breath.  He  would  think  me  unutterably 
foolish.  Talk  to  him  for  me ;  tell  him  everything 
you  can  think  of,  that's  sweet  and  lovely  and 
appreciative ;  you  can  do  it  so  well." 

"  But  what  more  is  there  to  say  ?  Your  father 
and  I  have  already  thanked  him  sufficiently,"  was 
Mrs.  Wyman's  cool  reply. 

In  Pauline's  overwrought  condition  it  was  best 
to  treat  the  matter  as  lightly  as  possible. 

"  Don't  magnify  it,  dear,  as  if  Mr.  Wishart  had 
been  a  hero.  Why  shouldn't  he  have  gone  to 
your  rescue  ?  How  could  he  have  helped  going, 
if  he  were  human  ?  He  merely  got  the  start  of 
your  brother  because  he  happened  to  be  called 
on  first." 

"  I  know  it,  mother,  oh,  certainly,"  said  Pauline, 
ready  to  cry  again.  "  'Twas  mere  humanity  !  If 
I  had  been, — well,  say  Jake  Farrand,  Mr.  Wish- 
art  would  have  gone  just  as  soon ;  he  would  have 
cared  quite  as  much." 

Mrs.  Wyman's  eyes  twinkled. 

"  I  don't  think  you  quite  understand  my  feeling, 
mother  dear."  The  smile  had  irritated  her.  "  I've 


180  PAULINE   WYMAN. 

always  imposed  upon  Professor  Wishart's  kind- 
ness ;  taken  advantage  of  it ;  tired  him  to  death. 
And  now  — "  here  the  poor  child  laughed  out 
hysterically,  —  "  and  now,  after  all  the  trouble  and 
plague  I've  been  to  the  man,  I  do  think  'twas 
rather  superfluous  for  me  to  go  and  plant  myself 
in  the  middle  of  the  river,  and  make  him  row  out 
after  me !  " 

Mrs.  Wyman  and  her  husband  had  much  amuse- 
ment in  private  over  Pauline's  morbid  sensitive- 
ness, quite  a  new  phase  of  her  character,  and 
largely  due  now  to  the  terrible  strain  her  nerves 
had  undergone. 

But  the  fact  remained  that  Professor  Wishart 
took  her  strange  behavior  very  seriously.  He  was 
not  well  read  in  heart-lore,  and  could  not  under- 
stand the  girl's  studied  avoidance  of  him.  She 
was  grateful  and  deferential  to  the  last  degree ;  if 
he  had  been  the  austere  and  elderly  teacher,  Mr. 
Greeley,  she  could  not  have  been  more  docile  and 
studious. 

But  there  was  poor  satisfaction  in  this.  The 
fresh,  spontaneous,  delightful  intercourse  which 
Professor  Wishart  and  his  pupil  had  enjoyed  for 
so  long  seemed  now  a  thing  of  the  past.  So  far 
from  making  them  closer  friends,  the  rescue  on 
the  river  had  caused  a  greater  alienation. 

James,  without  the  slightest  intention,  did  much 
to  widen  the  breach.  For  his  own  part  he  was 
feeling  far  from  comfortable.  It  is  surprising  how 
much  needless  suffering  there  is  in  the  world,  and 


"I   THOUGHT   YOU   WOULD   COME."         181 

he  had  managed  to  appropriate  a  share,  though  no 
one  suspected  it. 

Wishart  was  a  fine  fellow,  so  James  said  to  him- 
self, a  fine  fellow,  he  had  never  denied  it ;  well 
informed,  a  capital  teacher.  But  why  the  girls 
should  all  with  one  accord  consider  him  so  fasci- 
nating he  failed  to  comprehend. 

This  had  not  concerned  him  much,  however,  till 
Eva  fell  under  the  spell.  "  Thou,  too,  Eva  ?  "  was 
the  cry  of  his  wounded  heart. 

Of  course  Wishart  was  attracted  by  Eva,  he 
thought ;  no  man  in  his  senses  could  help  seeing 
that  she  was  a  girl  of  a  thousand ;  and,  in  his 
absurd  jealousy,  Jim  grew  very  captious  about  the 
lessons.  What  right  had  the  girls  to  encroach  in 
this  way  on  the  poor  man's  time  ? 

"  You  may  depend,  Wishart  is  getting  tired  of 
it,"  said  James,  quite  sincerely,  for  he  prided  him- 
self on  his  superior  discernment.  "  Wishart  looks 
awfully  bored  sometimes,  Paul." 

"  I've  noticed  it  myself,"  replied  Pauline,  meekly. 
"  I'd  have  let  him  off  long  ago,  only  Eva  lost  so 
much  time  in  Michigan,  and  has  been  so  glad  to 
catch  up." 

After  this  the  lessons  were  shorter  and  not  so 
frequent,  and  Pauline  was  careful  not  to  say  an 
unnecessary  word  to  the  long-suffering,  much- 
abused  professor.  He  ought  to  have  felt  relieved, 
but  if  so,  there  were  no  signs  of  it.  On  the  con- 
trary, he  grew  low-spirited  to  a  noticeable  degree. 

Thus,  taking  it  altogether,  it  began  to  seem  as  if, 


182  PAULINE  WYMAN. 

unless  something  new  should  intervene,  these  two 
foolish  creatures,  Allan  Wishart  and  Pauline  Wy- 
man,  would  soon  be  bowing  to  each  other  from 
the  distant  peaks  of  politeness. 

Weeks  passed ;  nothing  had  occurred  yet  to 
change  the  current  of  events,  and  it  was  now  late 
in  December. 


XVI. 

GRANDMA   PETTIJOHN. 

"  Now,  do  tell  me,  Paulina,  what's  all  this  do- 
ings they're  going  to  have  at  Minerva  Hall,  for 
Christmas  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Rix,  her  slate-colored  eyes 
beaming  with  curiosity.  "  It  ain't  a  theatre,  is  it  ?" 

"  Oh,  no ;  a  fancy  dress  party,  where  people 
dress  in  costume,  as  they  call  it,  to  represent  kings 
and  queens,  and  various  nationalities." 

"Well,  I'm  glad  it's  no  worse!  Ought  to  get 
sister  Cinthy  to  go.  She  can  represent  'most  any- 
thing. There,  I  shall  have  to  tell  you  what  she 
represented  the  other  day ;  'twas  the  solemnest 
thing,  to  be  a  funny  thing,  that  ever  I  heard  of," 
said  Mrs.  Rix,  shaking  with  laughter. 

"You  know  she's  always  catching  rides, — 
Hiram  nor  nobody  can't  seem  to  break  her  of  it ; 
but  I  guess  she's  broke  now !  But  you  can't  stop 
to  hear  it." 

"Yes,  I  can,"  —  Pauline  was  just  leaving  the 
house,  —  "  yes,  I  can.  Do  tell  me  about  it." 

"Well,  just  after  the  roads  were  broke  out 
Monday,  nothing  would  do  but  she  must  come  out 
to  see  me.  Set  at  the  window  with  her  bonnet 
on  till  she  spied  a  man  coming  along  in  a  sleigh  ; 
then  she  out  and  hailed  him.  '  Going  to  the  vil- 

183 


184  PAULINE  WYMAN. 

lage  ? '  says  she.  '  May  I  ride  with  you  ? '  He 
didn't  say  much  of  anything;  only  halted  long 
enough  for  her  to  get  in.  He  didn't  seem  very 
sociable,  but  she  didn't  think  anything  of  that ; 
she  only  thought  he  rode  kind  of  slow.  And,  lo 
and  behold,  when  she  come  to  look  ahead,  there 
was  a  hearse  right  before  'em  !  And  'way  behind 
'em  was  a  little  funeral  procession  of  four  or  five 
sleighs,  and  she  was  chief  mourner,  riding  along 
with  a  widower  that  was  following  his  wife  to  the 
grave ! " 

"  Why,  Mrs.  Rix !  " 

"  Yes,  that's  a  solemn  fact !  I  guess  Hiram 
never'll  get  done  plaguing  her  about  it !  "  And 
Mrs.  Rix  laughed  again,  well  pleased  to  see  that 
Pauline  was  joining  her.  "  Well,  she  got  let  out 
at  the  first  house  they  passed ;  and  dreadful 
'shamed  she  was,  too,  I  can  tell  you.  And  we 
live  in  hopes — Hiram  and  I  do — that  she'll  look 
sharp  before  she  tries  to  catch  any  more  rides." 

Cinthy's  melancholy  experience  recurred  to 
Pauline  that  evening,  as  she  was  coming  home  in 
a  fast-falling  snow-storm. 

"  I'd  like  to  catch  a  ride,  but  not  exactly  in  a 
funeral  procession,"  she  thought  laughing.  "Dear 
me,  I  must  be  thinking  of  my  fancy  dress  cos- 
tume. What  can  I  devise  that  will  be  pretty  and 
effective,  yet  not  cost  me  a  cent?  There's  that 
beautiful  cream-colored  nun's  veiling  of  mamma's. 
Could  I  possibly  make  it  do  for  Mary  Stuart, 
when  she  wore  mourning  for  her  first  husband, 


GRANDMA   PETTIJOHN.  185 

and  was  called  '  the  white  queen '  ?  It's  worth 
thinking  of." 

Turning  a  corner  she  met  a  sleighing-party  of 
her  old  school  friends,  caught  unaware  in  the 
storm.  The  sleigh-bells  beat  in  time  to  happy 
hearts,  but  their  silvery  music  could  scarcely  be 
heard  above  the  laughter  which  accompanied  it. 
What  a  merry  time  the  boys  and  girls  were  hav- 
ing !  They  were  probably  going  to  the  Winder- 
mere  to  dine  and  maybe  dance.  Two  years  ago 
Pauline  might  have  made  one  of  the  hilarious 
party,  but  that  was  before  she  had  grown  old 
and  humdrum.  Now  it  was  seldom  she  could  be 
spared  from  the  office,  even  when  people  were 
good  enough  to  invite  her. 

But  how  particularly  gay  they  looked  facing  the 
storm :  John  Blythe,  Dolly  Stevens,  and  all  the 
rest, — yes,  even  her  own  Eva  Hallett  and  Ned. 
They  nodded  from  their  sleighs  at  commonplace, 
workaday  Pauline,  trudging  through  the  storm 
without  an  umbrella,  —  all  but  Miss  Victoria  Ray- 
mond, who  made  a  pretence  of  watching  the 
horses'  ears. 

A  certain  covert  superciliousness  had  been  grow- 
ing on  Victoria  of  late.  At  another  time  Pauline 
might  not  have  noticed  her  slight,  but  everything 
seemed  to  be  amiss  to-day,  and  her  nerves  were 
in  revolt.  The  office  radiator  had  been  "seven 
times  hotter  than  human  conception,"  her  head 
had  ached,  and,  being  less  on  the  "  quee  vivvy " 
than  usual,  she  had  made  unusual  blunders  in  her 


186  PAULINE  WYMAN. 

writing.  Why  did  people  think  her  so  light- 
hearted  ?  Why  did  Jim  say  that  "  Paul  could  get 
sunshine  out  of  cucumbers  "  ?  Jim  always  judged 
by  appearances.  She  did  not  always  tell  when  she 
was  unhappy. 

"  Perhaps  I  shall  feel  better  after  supper,"  said 
she,  with  a  touch  of  "  most  humorous  sadness ; " 
"at  any  rate,  after  a  night's  sleep  and  pleasant 
dreams.  God  gives  us  dreamland  as  a  sort  of 
playground.  We  go  there  for  our  holidays,  —  or 
I  do." 

But  more  and  more,  as  she  urged  her  way 
through  the  blinding  storm,  the  happy  lot  of  these 
old  schoolmates  kept  looming  on  her  mental  hori- 
zon, like  a  Fata  Morgana. 

"  Wouldn't  I  enjoy  the  feeling  of  sitting  wrapped 
up  in  furs  and  lap-robes,  and  allowing  four  horses 
to  waft  me  along  like  an  angel  on  a  cloud  ?  Now, 
there's  Tory  Raymond,  it's  second  nature  to  her 
to  be  wafted.  She  wonders  why  people  should 
work ;  she  couldn't  bear  the  confinement  of  an 
office. 

"  Neither  could  I  —  if  I  were  Tory.  She'll  come 
out  in  something  magnificent  at  the  masquerade 
party,  '  all  dazzling  like  gold  of  the  seventh  refin- 
ing.' A  Zenobia,  perhaps.  And  pray  why  not  ? 

"Ah,  there's  her  father." 

A  small,  inferior-looking  man  was  approaching, 
scowling  into  vacancy.  He  had  always  reminded 
Pauline  of  a  monkey,  and  she  quoted  to  herself 
mischievously,  — 


GRANDiMA   PETTIJOHN.  187 

" '  Should  a  monkey  wear  a  crown, 
Need  I  tremble  at  his  frown  ? ' " 

Then,  ashamed  of  her  ill-natured,  cynical  mood, 
she  stamped  her  foot  hard  on  the  pavement.  A 
gentleman  coming  toward  her  paused  suddenly. 

"Ah,  good  evening,  Miss  Pauline." 

"  Good  evening.  Oh,  is  that  you,  Mr.  Wishart  ? 
Do  you  see  those  icicles  clinging  to  that  roof  ? 
Who  was  it  that  fed  the  poor  on  icicles  ? " 

"  St.  Sebald,  was  it  not  ? " 

"  Well,  he  could  feast  a  regiment  here,  couldn't 
he,"  laughed  Pauline. 

But  the  very  chill  of  icicles  was  in  her  laugh, 
and  Mr.  Wishart  passed  on,  forgetting  to  offer  her 
his  umbrella,  as  he  had  at  first  intended. 

"  He  does  seem  rather  odd  at  times,"  thought 
Pauline,  with  a  little  pang  which  she  took  to  be 
part  of  the  general  discomfiture  of  the  evening. 
"  I  never  used  to  observe  it  so  much,  indeed,  I 
denied  it ;  but  his  '  heart  is  entirely  English,'  like 
Queen  Anne's. 

"  What  a  little  goose  I  was  to  be  so  confidential 
with  him,  and  he  trying  all  the  while  to  conceal 
his  annoyance.  Oh  wee !  Oh  wee !  There's 
something  about  him  that  charms  you,  —  I  don't 
know  why  ;  a  deep  sort  of  kindness,  a  kindness  that 
wishes  the  best  things  for  you  in  this  world  and  the 
next.  And  at  the  same  time  that  grand  manner, 
-I  can't  make  Eva  see  it, — which  says,  Til  do 
any  kindness  for  you,  and  count  it  a  privilege,  but 
don't  presume  upon  it.  My  heart,  after  all,  is 


188  PAULINE  WYMAN. 

entirely  English,  and  I  prefer  you  should  keep  at 
arm's  length.'  ' 

Pauline  was  walking  very  fast. 

"  I  couldn't  thank  him  for  saving  my  life  on  the 
river ;  he  wouldn't  give  me  the  chance.  But  my 
heart  thanks  him.  Bless  him  !  Bless  him  !  Bless 
him  ! " 

Tears  were  raining  down  the  girl's  face,  but 
she  shook  them  off  impatiently. 

"  I  may  as  well  give  my  attention  to  the  land- 
scape. The  snowflakes  are  as  dry  as  homoeo- 
pathic pills.  And  where  do  these  russet  leaves 
come  from,  that  are  so  mixed  up  with  the  snow  ? 

"  Oh,  I've  turned  Hallett  Corner !  Those  leaves 
have  been  rifled  from  my  favorite  oak  tree,  where 
they've  been  hanging  all  winter,  like  semi-detached 
jewels.  This  is  a  high  wind,  to  shake  them  off. 

"  '  Now  trees  their  leafy  hats  do  bare, 
To  reverence  Winter's  silver  hair.' 

"  And  here  comes  old  Winter,  or  the  wraith  of 
him,"  she  added,  as  a  snow-covered  figure  ap- 
proached, in  a  pung.  It  proved  to  be  an  old 
woman,  with  a  gay  quilted  robe  over  her  knees, 
and  she  was  shaking  the  reins,  and  clucking  inces- 
santly to  her  dilapidated  horse. 

On  seeing  Pauline,  she  stopped  short  and  called 
out,  — 

"  Get  in,  little  girl,  get  in  and  ride." 

"Why,  is  it  you,  Mrs.  Pettijohn  ?  Thank  you, 
I  will,"  answered  Pauline,  stepping  into  the  pung 
without  a  second  thought. 


GRANDMA   PETTIJOHN.  189 

"  Oh,  but  don't  turn  around.  I  live  at  the  old 
Wyman  place  just  a  very  little  way  off." 

"  So  you  do  ;  I  know  you  well  enough,"  groaned 
the  old  woman.  "  Only  my  thumbs  ache  so  I 
don't  justly  remember  my  own  name." 

"Give  me  the  reins,  Mrs.  Pettijohn,  and  take 
my  muff,  do,  please." 

The  old  woman  obeyed,  but  continued  to  groan 
and  mutter. 

"  Oh,  dear,  how  come  I  out  in  such  a  storm  ? 
Froze  my  thumbs  once,  froze  the  side  of  my  ear. 
Been  dreadful  tender  ever  since.  How'm  I  go- 
ing to  get  home,  and  night  a-comin'  on  ? " 

"  Oh,  cheer  up,  Mrs.  Pettijohn.  Here  we  are 
within  a  few  rods  of  our  house,  and  you  shall  come 
in  and  get  warmed,  and  my  brother  James  will 
take  care  of  your  horse." 

The  rainbow  windows  were  so  blurred  with 
snow  that  the  lights  from  within  shone  out  like 
the  moon  through  a  fog.  As  Pauline  drove  up  to 
the  front  door,  James,  hearing  the  sleigh-bells, 
came  out,  and  went  back  for  a  lantern.  It  was 
barely  quarter-past  four  o'clock,  but  the  lantern 
was  opportune,  for  there  occurred  an  unexpected 
difficulty  in  getting  the  old  woman  out  of  the 
pung. 

"Why,  poor  Grandma'am  Pettijohn,  you're  as 
stiff  as  a  clo'es-pin,"  said  Roxy,  appearing  in  the 
hall.  "Come,  lean  on  me." 

The  wood  fire  on  the  hearth  had  gone  out,  but 
the  furnace  heat  was  well  on,  and  as  the  benumbed 


190  PAULINE   WYMAN. 

traveller  stumbled  over  the  threshold  the  warm  air 
of  the  sitting-room  overpowered  her,  and  she  sank 
to  the  floor  partially  unconscious. 

James  and  Pauline  thought  her  dying,  but  she 
soon  yielded  to  proper  restoratives,  drew  a  long 
breath,  and  murmured  as  Mrs.  Wyman  chafed  her 
cold,  thin  hands,  — 

"  Only  my  thumbs.  Don't  be  scared.  Froze 
'em  once,  dreadful  tender ;  hate  to  scare  you  so  !  " 

James  and  Roxy  easily  lifted  and  carried  her  to 
the  sofa,  —  she  was  a  very  light  burden,  —  and 
Roxy  departed  for  the  kitchen  to  make  some  pip- 
ing hot  gruel,  wiping  her  eyes  as  she  went,  for  she 
"  couldn't  help  crying  if  she  was  to  die." 

Mrs.  Pettijohn's  bright  old  eyes  followed  her, 
then  rested  gratefully  on  Mrs.  Wyman,  who  still 
sat  beside  her  holding  the  tender  old  thumbs. 

"  Lord  love  ye,  I  ain't  so  used  up  as  what  you 
think.  But  I'm  a'most  too  old  to  drive  in  such 
weather,  a'most  too  old,  Where's  the  Squire?" 

"  He  went  to  Boston  yesterday.  We  don't  ex- 
pect him  till  to-morrow  or  next  day." 

"  Hope  he  won't  get  caught  out.  I  tell  you, 
Mrs.  Wyman,  this  warm  room  does  seem  master 
good  to  me." 

Pauline,  her  face  all  smiles,  —  she  seldom 
brought  her  low  spirits  into  the  house,  —  was 
kneeling  on  the  hearth,  and  Mrs.  Pettijohn  invol- 
untarily turned  her  head  a  little,  to  watch  her  as 
she  blew  the  bellows.  The  wood,  which  had  lain 
black  and  dead  across  the  brass  andirons,  leaped 


GRANDMA   PETTIJOHN.  191 

into  life,  the  flame  running  all  over  it  like  a  living 
thought.  Warmth  and  cheer  followed  the  dancing 
flame,  and  Mrs.  Pettijohn's  wrinkled  face  took  on 
a  contented,  restful  smile. 

She  was  accustomed  to  an  air-tight  stove,  in  the 
place  she  called  home.  She  had  rather  plain 
living,,  out  there  in  the  Johonnet  neighborhood, 
few  luxuries  of  any  sort,  and  hardly  more  com- 
panionship than  the  sparrow  on  "some  lonely 
building's  top;"  yet  she  found  no  fault,  being 
meekly  aware  that  people  without  money  have  no 
right  to  complain.  Her  granddaughter  Nancy, 
Mrs.  Raymond,  was  as  kind  to  her  as  Seth  would 
permit  her  to  be.  The  old  lady  might  have  "her 
opinion "  of  Seth  and  his  aristocratic  daughter 
Victoria,  but  she  did  not  express  it.  She  only 
said  sometimes,  in  confidential  moments,  that  she 
hated  to  be  an  expense  to  anybody,  and  thought 
she  had  "lived  a'most  too  long,  a'most  too  long." 

It  was  a  happy  accident  that  had  brought  her 
to  the  Wymans'  to-night,  and  when  she  found  she 
was  expected  to  stay  to  tea,  her  withered  heart 
expanded  like  a  Jericho  rose  in  a  vase  of  water. 

Well,  she  hadn't  thought  of  such  a  thing,  but 
mebbe  there  wouldn't  be  any  harm  in  it.  Nothing 
set  her  up  like  a  good  cup  o'  tea.  She  guessed 
she  could  drive  home  in  the  evening  just  as  well 
as  she  could  now ;  'twouldn't  be  any  darker. 

"Don't  think  of  it,  madam,"  said  the  gallant 
James  ;  "  I  shall  drive  you  myself,  whenever  you 
choose  to  go." 


192  PAULINE   WYMAN. 

"  A  beautiful  young  man  ;  so  good  to  old  folks," 
thought  Mrs.  Pettijohn. 

And  later,  when  he  gave  her  his  arm  to  lead 
her  to  the  tea  table,  her  heart  was  completely  won. 

It  was  a  delicious  repast,  with  a  few  choice  tid- 
bits served  especially  for  the  guest,  who  praised 
everything,  though  she  ate  but  sparingly.  Indeed, 
having  found  people  who  would  listen  to  her,  she 
preferred  talking  to  eating.  At  home  she  received 
no  more  attention  than  the  cat,  and  at  the  Ray- 
mond's, where  she  took  a  meal  once  or  twice  a 
year,  the  table  was  heavy  with  silver  and  silence. 

"  Don't  you  think  your  son  James  grows  to 
favor  your  family,  Mrs.  Wyman  ?  His  forehead 
is  some  like  the  colonel's,  your  uncle  Isaac's. 
But  your  little  Paulighny  is  growing  to  be  the  very 
image  of  her  grandmother  Wyman." 

Pauline  raised  her  eyes,  smiling.  Her  grand- 
mother had  died  when  she  was  two  years  old,  but 
she  had  tender  recollections  of  her ;  rather  con- 
fused, perhaps,  with  Bible  pictures  of  saints  and 
angels. 

"  I  don't  feel  much  sorry  I  was  obleeged  to  stay 
to  supper.  I  feel  it  to  be  a  privilege,"  said  Mrs. 
Pettijohn,  "  it  brings  back  the  old  times  so.  You 
see,  I  used  to  be  well  acquainted  with  Major  Mel- 
zar  Wyman,  the  old  bachelor  that  lived  in  this 
house  tor  sixty  years  of  his  life." 

"  Oh,  I  want  to  hear  about  that  lovely  old  bach- 
elor," said  Pauline.  "What  sort  of  looking  person 
was  he  ? " 


GRANDMA   PETTIJOHN.  193 

"Well,  not  to  call  handsome,  but  he  looked 
well  enough.  Had  black  eyes  that  snapped ;  hair 
black  as  a  coal  when  he  was  young ;  but  I  remem- 
ber him  as  pretty  middlin'  bald.  You  see,  he  was 
'most  as  old  as  my  father. 

"  Well,  well,  'twill  be  twenty-three  years,  come 
another  Spring,  that  he  has  been  laying  under 
green  bedclothes." 

"  She  means  his  grave,"  thought  Pauline,  after 
a  moment's  reflection,  and  was  struck  with  the 
homely  euphemism. 

"  He's  been  dead  'most  twenty-three  years," 
repeated  Mrs.  Pettijohn,  sipping  her  tea;  "and 
he  was  eighty-six  when  he  died." 

"  How  old  was  he  when  he  adopted  that  little 
boy,  my  grandfather  ?  " 

"  He  must  have  been  nigh  onto  forty.  'Twasn't 
a  baby,  though ;  'twas  five  years  old,  an  orphan 
child  —  George  Curtis.  'Twas  said  the  major  and 
George's  mother  had  calculated  to  marry  each  other 
when  they  were  young,  but  something  crossed  their 
path." 

"That  reads  like  a  story,"  said  Pauline. 

"Well,  I  don't  know  the  truth  of  it.  All  I 
know  for  certain  is  the  major  adopted  George, 
and  gave  him  his  name,  and  set  his  eyes  by 
him." 

"  And  as  the  major  was  so  wealthy,"  began 
Pauline,  "I  wonder  —  " 

"Will  you  have  some  more  tea,  Mrs.  Petti- 
john ? "  interrupted  Mrs.  Wyman,  with  a  glance 


194  PAULINE   WYMAN. 

intended  to  warn  the  old  woman  that  the  conver- 
sation was  drifting  into  dangerous  channels. 

The  warning  passed  unheeded.  "Thank  you, 
yes,  ma'am ;  your  tea  is  most  reviving.  And  it's 
come  across  me  since  I  sat  here  that  I  hain't 
been  in  this  room  for  sixty-four  years  and  two 
months ;  that  is  to  say,  'twas  sixty-four  years  the 
twenty-second  day  of  last  October." 

"  How  can  you  be  so  accurate  ?  Will  you  have 
some  jelly-roll?"  said  Mrs.  Wyman,  nervously. 

"  Well,  — no  more,  I  thank  you,  — there's  things 
that  fixed  that  date  in  my  mind.  Let's  see,  'twas 
this  room  ?  'Twas  a  kitchen  in  the  major's  day. 
I  see  you  use  it  now  for  a  dining-room." 

"Yes,  for  a  dining-room.  My  husband's  mother 
thought  —  " 

But  Mrs.  Pettijohn  paid  little  heed  to  what 
Squire  Wyman's  mother  had  thought,  and  was  not 
to  be  diverted. 

"'Twas  a  kitchen  then,  and  there  was  a  table 
stood  right  there  against  the  wall,  next  to  a 
Hampshire  cupboard.  It  all  comes  back  to  me 
as  plain,  for  you  see  'twas  my  birthday.  I  was 
twenty-two  years  old.  I  had  on  my  new  bom- 
bazine gown,  and  I  was  visiting  my  Aunt  Mar- 
tha Reese.  She  was  the  major's  cook.  And 
while  I  was  there,  the  major  got  Squire  Hallett 
and  Squire  Jones  up  to  the  house  to  make  his 
will." 

"  His  will !  "  cried  Pauline. 

"  Oh,  that  will !  "  echoed  James. 


GRANDMA  PETTIJOHN.  195 

Mrs.  Wyman  settled  back  helplessly  in  her 
chair.  The  story  must  all  come  out  now,  and 
she  dreaded  the  effect  on  James  and  Pauline. 
Fortunately  Danville  was  not  there  to  hear  it. 


XVII. 

MAJOR   MELZAR. 

"YES,"  said  Mrs.  Pettijohn,  with  an  air  of 
pleased  importance,  "I  can  tell  you  all  about  that 
will ;  for  I  was  asked  to  sign  it,  along  with  two 
of  the  neighbors.  My  aunt  and  the  hired  man 
couldn't  sign  on  account  of  being  legatees." 

"  Certainly  not,"  declared  James. 

"  And  I  felt  very  proud.  I  remember  the  ink 
was  kind  of  dried  up  in  the  inkstand,  and  the 
major  poured  in  a  few  drops  of  water  and  stirred 
it  with  a  stick." 

"What  about  sealing-wax?  "  asked  James. 

"  I  didn't  see  anything  of  sealing-wax.  Squire 
Jones  made  a  jiggly  circle  with  his  pen,  and  I 
guess  that  passed  for  a  seal.  Well,  only  think," 
she  sighed,  "  they're  all  dead  now,  they're  all  dead 
now,  —  Aunt  Marthy  and  the  major  and  the  law- 
yers and  the  hired  man,  and  those  neighbors,  too, 
the  Blaisdells.  The  youngest  of  'em  died  at  eighty- 
four.  All  dead  but  me.  Seems  strange  !  " 

"  Passing  strange ;  in  fact,  unaccountable," 
thought  unfeeling  young  James.  But  there  was 
no  hint  of  a  smile  on  his  face. 

"We've  heard  before  about  this  will,  Mrs. 
Pettijohn.  And  now  what  became  of  it,  that  is 
the  question  ? " 

196 


MAJOR   MELZAR.  197 

"  Yes,  Mrs.  Pettijohn,  please  tell  us,"  said  Paul- 
ine, glad  to  see  James  interested  at  last. 

The  old  lady  looked  darkly  mysterious,  slowly 
shaking  her  head. 

"That's  what  folks  wished  they  knew.  When 
'twas  looked  for,  'twas  missing." 

"Stolen?"  asked  Pauline. 

"More'n  /know." 

"Paul,  don't  jump  so  at  conclusions,"  reproved 
Jim. 

"  More'n  I  know  what  became  of  it.  But  I 
can  testify  to  seeing  of  it  put  in  a  leetle  mahog- 
any desk  about  three  feet  high,  with  a  green  top 
to  it  and  brass  pulls." 

"  I  know  what  you  mean,"  cried  Pauline.  "  It's 
up  in  the  attic  now,  that  very  desk.  Do  go  on, 
Mrs.  Pettijohn.  This  is  so  interesting." 

"  My  daughter,  I  fear  we  are  wearying  Mrs. 
Pettijohn." 

"  Now,  don't  you  worry,"  said  the  delighted  old 
lady.  "  It  don't  tire  me  a  grain  to  talk.  Yes, 
I  see  that  will  put  in  a  box  and  locked  up,  and 
then  the  box  put  into  a  leetle  mahogany  desk 
just  high  enough  to  write  on,  and  that  was  locked, 
too." 

"  But  what  was  in  the  will  ?  Did  you  hear  it 
read  ? "  asked  James. 

"  Certain.  The  major  didn't  make  any  secret 
of  it.  He  gave  all  his  property  to  that  little  boy, 
George,  your  grandfather,  all  but  a  few  bequests 
to  the  hired  folks  and  such.  George  was  ten 


198  PAULINE   WYMAN. 

years  old  at  the  time,  but,  mind  you,  he  didn't 
know  what  was  going  on.  He  was  out  to  play." 

"The  major  was  very  fond  of  George,  was 
he  ? "  said  James. 

"  Yes.  From  the  time  the  little  chap  was  five 
years  old,  the  major  used  to  set  him  on  his  knee 
and  let  him  poke  the  tobacco  into  his  pipe  for 
him,  and  then  light  it  with  a  twisted  lamp- 
lighter." 

"Did  the  major  leave  a  large  fortune,  Mrs. 
Pettijohn  ?  About  how  large,  do  you  think  ? " 
asked  Pauline. 

"  Well,  'twasn't  told  in  figgers ;  'twas  property 
mostly,  not  money.  But  'twas  the  general  opinion 
that  the  major  could  have  sold  out  any  time  for 
half  or  three-quarters  of  a  million.  And  after  he 
died  the  property  riz  in  value,  bless  you !  So  by 
the  time  they  began  to  hunt  for  the  will,  it  had 
doubled  and  trebled,  well,  I  can't  say  but  quad- 
rupled." Mrs.  Pettijohn's  voice  rose.  She  was 
letting  her  imagination  run  away  with  her.  "  Well, 
anyway,  it  had  mounted  up  to  a  monstrous  big 
pile." 

"  My  grandfather's  money,"  exclaimed  Pauline, 
her  eyes  lighting  with  green  fire.  "The  money 
that  should  have  descended  to  my  father.  But 
tell  me,  who  has  it  now,  Mrs.  Pettijohn  ?  It's 
what  I've  been  wanting  to  find  out." 

"  Don't,  Pauline,"  said  her  mother,  beseechingly. 
"That  is  something  it  is  quite  as  well  you  should 
not  know." 


MAJOR   MELZAR.  199 

"Then  I  ain't  goin'  to  tell  'em,  not  if  you  don't 
want  me  to,"  said  the  guest,  with  a  quick,  deprecat- 
ing glance  at  Mrs.  Wyman.  "I'm  the  last  one 
't  would  want  to  tell ;  though,  to  be  sure,  'twas  be- 
fore Nancy  married  him,  so  she  wasn't  to  blame ! " 

Nancy  —  Raymond ! 

The  poor  old  lady  was  intelligent  enough,  but 
her  wits  moved  rather  slowly  at  times  and  en- 
tangled themselves  to  her  confusion.  In  speak- 
ing the  name  Nancy  she  had  made  an  irretrievable 
blunder.  She  saw  it  herself  next  moment,  and  her 
face  took  on  a  comical  look  of  distress  like  the  face 
of  a  little  child  caught  in  mischief. 

"  Nancy  married  Seth  Raymond.  He  has  that 
money,"  said  Pauline's  eyes  to  Jim. 

"  Raymond's  the  man,"  replied  Jim's  eyes  to 
Pauline. 

Mrs.  Wyman,  from  behind  the  tea-urn,  noted 
these  glances  and  smiled  involuntarily.  She  had 
tried,  and  so  had  her  husband,  to  keep  this  from 
the  children,  but  with  the  guileless  and  garrulous 
Mrs.  Pettijohn  under  their  roof,  concealment  was 
no  longer  possible, — -and,  on  the  whole,  it  might 
be  quite  as  well.  James  and  Pauline  were  old 
enough  now  to  be  confided  in,  and  after  their  first 
indignation  would  probably  settle  down  to  a  quiet 
acceptance  of  facts. 

The  well-meaning  grandmother  of  Nancy  Ray- 
mond looked  uncomfortable.  She  bemoaned  her 
stupidity,  and  heartily  wished  herself  in  the  pung 
driving  home  through  the  storm.  Too  bad,  when 


200  PAULINE   WYMAN. 

she  had  enjoyed  her  visit  so  uncommonly,  and  had 
been  making  herself  so  interesting !  Mrs.  Wyman 
saw  the  old  lady's  disturbance  and  was  moved  to 
pity. 

"  There's  no  harm  done,"  said  she,  with  a  re- 
assuring smile  as  they  rose  from  the  table.  "  It 
is  high  time  my  children  should  know  all  this,  and 
you  can  relate  the  facts  better  than  any  one  else." 

"  We  want  to  hear  more,  we  want  to  hear  every- 
thing," cried  Pauline. 

James  escorted  their  guest  back  to  the  sitting- 
room. 

"Now  is  a  good  time,  Mrs.  Pettijohn,"  he  said; 
"for  we  can't  talk  of  these  things  before  my 
father." 

The  old  lady  settled  herself  among  the  sofa 
cushions  with  a  look  of  relief  and  genuine  pleas- 
ure. When  had  she  had  an  audience  like  this 
hanging  upon  her  words? 

"Well,  then,  if  your  mother's  willing  to  have 
me,  I  suppose  it's  no  harm  for  me  to  say  that 
when  proper  search  was  made  and  the  will 
couldn't  be  found,  the  major's  property  went  to 
Seth  Raymond." 

"  So  that  was  what  made  him  rich,"  exclaimed 
Pauline. 

"Naturally."     James  spoke  with  sarcasm. 

"  But  who  was  Seth  Raymond,  anyway,  Mrs. 
Pettijohn,  and  where  did  he  come  from  ? " 

"  Came  from  Taunton.  Married  my  grand- 
daughter, Nancy  Davis,  after  he  got  the  prop- 


MAJOR   MELZAR.  201 

erty,"  with  an  emphasis  on  "after,"  which  might 
imply  a  doubt  whether  Nancy  would  have  accepted 
him  before  he  got  the  money.  Possibly  this  doubt 
existed  in  the  old  lady's  mind,  and  it  may  have 
been  well  founded.  "Yes,  he  married  Nancy 
Davis,  the  youngest  of  six  children ;  and  a  likely 
girl  she  was  too  !  " 

"  But  what  claim  had  he  on  that  money? "  asked 
James. 

"  Well,  you  see,  he  was  the  major's  grand- 
nephew,  and  all  the  kin  there  was  left  when  the 
major  died." 

"Ah,  that  explains  it." 

"  But,  mind  you,  the  old  major  thought  he  had 
cut  him  off,"  admitted  Mrs.  Pettijohn,  frankly ; 
"he  thought  he  had  cut  off  all  his  own  kin;  he 
meant  to.  He  had  good  grounds  for  it,  too.  That 
was  why  he  adopted  that  child,  so  he  could  cut  'em 
off." 

"  Now  I  understand  it." 

"  Yes,  he  up  and  adopted  that  boy,  —  that  is,  he 
didn't  have  any  'doption  papers  made  out ;  the 
lawyers  couldn't  get  him  to ;  —  but  he  gave  the  boy 
his  own  name,  and  said  he  should  fare  the  same 
as  if  he  was  his  own  son." 

"And  that  boy  was  my  grandfather,"  said  Paul- 
ine, impressively. 

"  Certain  ;  and  ten  years  old  at  the  time  the 
will  was  made,  the  major  forty-five.  I  remember 
that,  and  how  apologetic  he  spoke  about  making 
a  will  so  young.  'The  Flints  live  forever,'  says 


202  PAULINE  WYMAN. 

he,  —  that's  his  mother's  folks,  —  '  and  the  Wy- 
mans  live  forever  and  etarnally.  But  I'll  be  on 
the  safe  side,  and  cut  off  my  brother  Jacob  and 
his  children  while  I'm  alive, — and  then  I'll  be 
sure  the  money  goes  where  I  want  it  to  go,  to  my 
heir,  George  Wyman.'  " 

"But  it  didn't!" 

"  Paul,  don't  interrupt.  Pray  go  on,  Mrs.  Petti- 
john.  So  Jacob  and  his  heirs  were  cut  off.  And 
this  Seth  Raymond  was  Jacob's  heir  ?  But  which 
died  first,  the  major  or  his  brother  Jacob  ?  " 

"Jacob.  He  was  a  good  sight  younger  than 
the  major,  but  he  died  very  sudden  of  typhus 
fever." 

"  And  left  children  ?  "  James  spoke  with  a  legal 
air  quite  edifying,  like  a  lawyer  cross-questioning 
a  witness.  "  How  many  children  did  Jacob  leave  ? " 

"  He  left  one  child,  Betsey,  and  she  married  a 
Raymond  off  in  Taunton,  and  died  young,  very 
young,  leaving  a  son,  a  baby  ;  his  name  was  Seth." 

"  Then  that  baby  was  the  only  relation  after  — 
let's    see  —  after    Betsey   had    died,  —  that's    his 
mother, — and    Jacob,  —  that's   his   grandfather," 
said   Pauline,  counting  up  the  departed   ones  on 
her  thumb  and  forefinger. 

James  brushed  her  aside. 

"Well,  Mrs.  Pettijohn,  the  major  died  next,  I 
suppose  ? " 

"  No,  he  ought  to.  That  would  have  made  it 
all  right ;  but  he  didn't,  not  he.  He  lived  to  be 
eighty-six.  He  lived  forty-one  years  after  he 


MAJOR   MELZAR.  203 

made  his  will.  He  lived  to  see  your  grandfather 
laid  in  his  grave,  and  there  was  what  made  the 
difficulty.  Old  folks  hadn't  ought  to  live  too 
long,"  she  added,  with  a  pathetic  smile,  "it's  apt 
to  cause  trouble.  Your  grandsir  died  first ;  he 
died  at  this  house  when  he  wasn't  but  thirty,  leav- 
ing a  widow  and  one  child." 

"The  widow  was  my  beautiful  grandmother,  and 
the  child  was  my  father,"  said  Pauline. 

"Yes,  and  the  major  was  amazing  fond  of  the 
little  shaver ;  brought  him  up  and  lived  to  see  him 
through  college." 

"  But  the  major  died  at  last,"  said  Pauline,  as  if 
she  almost  feared  he  had  forgotten  to  do  so.  "And 
when  people  die,  that's  the  time  to  look  up  their 
wills  ;  isn't  it,  Jim  ?  " 

"  It's  not  generally  done  before  they  die,  Paul. 
Well,  Mrs.  Pettijohn,  my  father  must  have  been 
twenty-three  or  four,  when  Major  Wyman  died." 

"  Mebbe  he  was.  'Twas  twenty-three  years  ago. 
He'd  got  through  college,  I  know,  and  was  study- 
ing law.  Good  habits,  and  engaged  to  be  married 
to  an  extra  —  " 

Here  she  arched  her  eyebrows  and  looked  at 
her  hostess  meaningly. 

"But  the  least  said  about  that  the  better;  'Praise 
to  the  face,'  you  know.  I  was  only  going  to  remark 
that  folks  envied  Charles  Wyman.  For  one  thing, 
he  was  looked  upon  as  the  richest  man  in  the 
county." 

"If  the  will  hadn't  been  stolen,"  broke  in  Pauline. 


204  PAULINE   WYMAN. 

"  What  did  you  say  ?  Oh,  there  didn't  nobody 
steal  the  will.  I'm  certain  sure  they  never  did." 

"  Paul,  be  careful.  All  that  is  known  is  that  it 
couldn't  be  found,"  said  James,  warily,  in  a  dispas- 
sionate tone.  "  It  couldn't  be  found,  and  so  the 
money  went  to  Mr.  Seth  Raymond." 

"Yes,  that  was  the  way  of  it.  It  naturally  went 
to  Seth,  he  was  next  of  kin.  But  his  wife  didn't 
have  a  thing  to  do  about  it,  not  a  nameable  thing," 
added  the  old  lady,  deprecatingly.  "'Twas  before 
she  was  even  acquainted  with  Seth." 

"  Did  Mr.  Seth  Raymond  know  that  that  money 
was  meant  for  my  father  ? "  asked  Pauline,  with 
suppressed  wrath. 

"  Yes,  he  knew  fast  enough.  Everybody  knew 
about  the  will." 

"Then  he  was  the  same  as  a  thief." 

"  Pauline,  Pauline  !  "  said  her  mother,  gently. 

It  was  the  first  time  Mrs.  Wyman  had  spoken. 
But  she  need  not  have  feared  for  Mrs.  Pettijohn's 
feelings.  That  woman  had  never  been  known 
to  take  offence  at  anything  said  against  Seth  Ray- 
mond. She  merely  cleared  her  throat  now  and 
looked  at  James,  who  was  still  regarding  her  with 
judicial  calmness. 

"  You  say  proper  search  was  made  for  the  will  ? " 

"  My  !  I  guess  you'd  ha'  thought  so !  The  old 
gentleman's  papers  had  been  kep'  in  the  garret  for 
some  years,  and  your  father  went  up  and  thought 
he  was  going  to  lay  his  hand  right  on  the  very 
paper  he  wanted  ;  but  it  wa'n't  there,  it  wa'n't 


MAJOR   MELZAR.  205 

anywhere.  He  wore  himself  all  out  hunting,  but 
'twas  no  use,  it  never  turned  up." 

Mrs.  Wyman  arose  to  put  a  fresh  stick  of  yellow 
birch  on  the  fire.  She  looked  as  if  she  were  pass- 
ing through  an  ordeal. 

"Well,  'twas  a  heavy  cross  for  your  father;  but, 
you  know,  riches  does  take  to  themselves  wings, 
and  we're  warned  not  to  set  our  hearts  on  'em," 
added  Mrs.  Pettijohn,  dropping  her  cheery  voice 
to  "a  holy  whine,"  so  exasperating  to  Pauline  that 
she  would  have  spoken  out  again,  if  James  had  not 
pinched  her  into  silence. 

"  Seth  Raymond  had  a  right  to  the  money,  by 
law,"  said  he.  "There  was  no  will;  Grandpa 
Wyman  had  not  been  legally  adopted,  and  Mr. 
Raymond  was  the  true  heir." 

"  Well,  he  was  next  of  kin  to  the  major,  sure. 
Yes,  everybody  said  he  had  the  law  on  his  side." 

"  The  law  !  "  vociferated  Pauline,  her  eyes  a  fine 
emerald  color  ;  "  the  law  !  " 

"  Seth  didn't  do  anything  illegal ;  no,  he  didn't," 
said  Mrs.  Pettijohn,  sitting  upright  and  pushing 
aside  the  cushions.  "  He  took  no  more'n  what 
the  law  allowed." 

She  turned  to  Mrs.  Wyman. 

"  You  know  he  seemed  to  think  he  was  gener- 
ous, —  Seth  did ;  for  he  give  your  husband  this 
house  and  nine  acres  of  land.  'Twas  a  present 
right  out,  he  wasn't  obleeged  to  give  him  a 
nameable  thing." 

"Why,  Mrs.  Pettijohn,  are  you  trying  to  justify 


206  PAULINE  WYMAN. 

Mr.  Raymond?  I  wouldn't  have  believed  it  of 
you,"  said  the  irrepressible  Pauline. 

"  It  ain't  for  me  to  express  an  opinion,"  returned 
the  old  lady,  guardedly.  "I've  been  asked  for 
facts,  and  I've  been  giving  of  'em,  that's  all. 
Some  was  of  the  opinion  that  Seth  ought  to  have 
gone  halves  with  your  father.  But,  —  well,  it 
didn't  look  that  way  to  Seth." 

"  Evidently,"  remarked  James. 

A  speech  of  withering  sarcasm  was  on  his  lips, 
but  he  looked  at  his  mother,  and  merely  asked,  — 

"  How  long  did  father  search  for  that  paper  ? " 

"  More  than  twenty  years,  my  son." 

There  were  bright  spots  of  red  in  Mrs.  Wyman's 
cheeks  ;  her  voice  was  unsteady. 

"  Can  that  be  the  reason  father  would  never 
allow  any  of  us  children  to  play  in  the  attic  ? " 
asked  James.  "  He  has  usually  kept  the  door 
locked,  you  know  ;  and  whenever  I've  been  allowed 
up  there,  I  knew  'twas  one  of  the  deadly  sins  to 
touch  so  much  as  an  old  newspaper." 

"Why,  I  never  dared  brush  down  a  cobweb," 
said  Pauline.  "Oh,  mother,  I  always  wondered 
what  made  father  spend  so  much  time  in  the 
attic,  among  those  rubbishy  things.  Is  it  possi- 
ble he  has  been  looking  all  the  while  for  that 
paper  ? " 

"  Not  lately.  I  think  he  has  given  it  up ;  or  I 
hope  so." 

Mrs.  Wyman  spoke  sadly,  and  with  a  certain 
reticence.  She  would  not  have  even  her  own 


MAJOR   MELZAR.  207 

children  suspect  what  a  shadow  had  been  cast 
over  her  whole  married  life  by  this  unreasonable, 
and  worse  than  useless,  quest. 

"  Where  did  all  those  cartloads  of  yellow  paper 
come  from,  mother?"  asked  Pauline. 

"  They  belonged  to  Major  Wyman,  who  seems 
never  to  have  destroyed  anything.  So  far  as  I 
know,  they  are  not  of  the  slightest  value,  except 
to  antiquarians.  But  I've  never  been  allowed  to 
lay  profane  hands  on  them,  and  burn  them  up. 
You  know,"  she  added,  trying  to  laugh,  "your 
father  is  a  perfect  Bluebeard,  if  you  go  near  that 
haunted  chamber." 

"  I'm  rather  glad  you  never  did  burn  them  up," 
said  Pauline,  "for  now  Jim  and  I  can  take  our 
turn  at  hunting." 

"  Oh,  don't  say  it,  Pauline.  Don't  you  or  James 
allow  yourselves  to  think  about  that  terrible  piece 
of  paper !  It  has  been  the  bane  of  your  father's 
life.  I  can't  have  the  curse  descend  to  my 
children !  " 

Mrs.  Wyman  looked  almost  terrified.  It  was  a 
revelation  to  Pauline. 

"  How  she  must  have  suffered,"  thought  the 
girl,  and  tears  sprang  to  her  eyes. 

"  Oh,  mother,  I  didn't  really  mean  it,  and  if  I 
did  I  couldn't  enlist  James,  he  would  know  better." 

"Thank  you,  I  should  hope  so.  Nobody  of 
common  sense  would  go  gleaning  after  father !  " 

The  conversation  drifted  now  to  other  subjects, 
but  Pauline  had  had  one  of  her  insights.  She  un- 


208  PAULINE   WYMAN. 

derstood  now,  as  never  before,  her  father's  moody, 
dreamy  ways,  his  fitful  bursts  of  gayety  followed 
by  hours  of  silent  depression.  That  dreadful  paper 
had  been  the  bane  of  his  life,  an  ignis  fatuus,  ever 
luring  and  beckoning  and  misleading  him. 

Poor  papa !  this  was  no  doubt  the  reason  he  had 
never  settled  steadily  to  the  practice  of  his  pro- 
fession. His  optimistic  temperament  had  never 
allowed  him  to  give  up  hope.  And  Pauline  re- 
membered a  sentence  she  had  often  heard  him 
quote,  — 

"  Hope  is  like  a  bad  clock,  forever  striking  the 
hour  of  happiness  whether  it  has  come  or  not." 

"A  little  pessimism  would  have  been  a  good 
thing  for  father,  strange  as  it  may  seem,  for  then 
he  wouldn't  have  clung  to  this  foolish  hope.  And 
what  a  constant  trial  this  hope  must  have  been  to 
mother !  How  could  she  have  kept  her  distress  to 
herself  ?  She  might  have  told  me,  her  sister- 
daughter.  I  know  why  she  didn't.  'Twas  because 
she  wished  to  spare  me  the  sorrow  and  worry  of  it. 
It's  because  she's  the  noblest,  bravest,  dearest 
woman  that  ever  lived  on  earth." 

It  was  still  storming,  and  Mrs.  Pettijohn  was 
easily  persuaded  to  remain  for  the  night.  The 
good  woman  little  knew  how  her  revelations  were 
to  affect  this  quiet  family.  She  dropped  off  to 
sleep  in  a  very  happy  frame  of  mind,  pleased  to 
find  that  she  was  still  a  good  talker,  and  a  person 
of  much  more  consideration  than  was  generally 
supposed. 


XVIII. 

"  BLUEBEARD'S  "  CHAMBER. 

" '  ALL  the  world  is  queer  but  thee  and  me,  Pru- 
dence, and  I'm  afraid  thee  is  getting  rather  queer,'  " 
quoted  James  derisively  to  his  sister  as  he  stood 
with  her  next  morning  by  the  east  window  in  the 
kitchen,  looking  at  the  driving  storm. 

"  But,  Jim,  I  can't  understand  your  indifference." 
She  spoke  so  low  that  her  words  were  inaudible  to 
Mrs.  Rix,  moving  noisily  about  the  stove.  "This 
is  a  leisure  day  for  me  ;  I  can't  go  to  the  office,  and 
you  need  not  go  to  your  recitations  unless  you 
choose.  And  mother  has  consented  that  for  this 
day  only  we  may  explore  the  attic  in  strict  privacy. 
Don't  you  want  one  look  at  those  yellow  old  papers, 
Jim?" 

"  Not  a  look,"  said  Jim,  planting  his  feet  far 
apart,  throwing  back  his  head  and  laughing.  "  You 
always  were  the  most  visionary  creature,  Paul." 

"  Now,  dear,  maybe  I  was  in  youth,  but  that  was 
long  ago !  It's  curiosity  that  moves  me  now,  just 
curiosity.  I'd  like  to  see  what  sort  of  things 
father  has  been  turning  over  and  over  all  these 
years.  I  shan't  be  satisfied  till  I  do." 

"  Yes,  Paul ;  and  you  don't  own  it  even  to  your- 
self, but  you  expect  to  find  something  he  has  over- 
looked. Pretty  likely,  isn't  it  now,  that  he  wouldn't 
p  209 


210  PAULINE   WYMAN. 

know  the  right  paper  if  he  should  see  it  ?  As  the 
lawyers  say,  '  It's  generally  safe  to  assume  that  the 
Court  knows  a  little  law.'  " 

"  Now,  Jim,  I  haven't  the  slightest  idea  of  find- 
ing anything.  But  my  mind  was  in  a  tumult  last 
night  like  a  sea  after  a  storm  ;  it  wouldn't  calm 
down  ;  and  I  thought  then  if  it  should  keep  on 
snowing  —  " 

"Well,  it  does.  Let's  see,  there  are  six  kinds 
of  snowflakes,  lamellar,  spicular,  etc.,  but  only 
one  kind  during  one  storm,  —  hey  ?  I  think  these 
are  the  spicular." 

"I  don't  care  what  kind  they  are.  I  want  one 
chance  at  that  attic  before  father  comes  home,  and 
I  thought  we'd  have  a  fine  time  exploring  it  to- 
gether. Haven't  you  any  curiosity,  Jim  ?  " 

"  Not  a  grain.  There's  none  of  the  '  eternal 
womanly'  about  me." 

"  No,  it's  the  eternal  manly  that  makes  you  so 
obstinate,  is  it  ?  When  I  see  those  eyebrows  go 
down  I  stop  talking.  But  myself  says  to  me, '  Go,' 
and  I'm  going." 

"  And  /  say  to  you,  '  Take  a  pan  of  coals  with 
you,  Paul,  or  the  kitchen  stove  or  something. 
You'll  get  your  death  of  cold  up  there.' ' 

"  No,  mother  has  provided  a  hot-water  bag,  and 
I  shall  wear  hood,  cloak,  and  mittens.  Good-by. 
I  go  on  pilgrimage." 

"Good-by,  arctic  explorer." 

Mrs.  Wyman  regretted  her  promise  when  she 
saw  Pauline  mounting  the  narrow  staircase.  She 


"BLUEBEARD'S"  CHAMBER.  211 

had  objected  to  the  girl's  going  out  of  doors,  but 
how  much  better  was  this  expedition  into  the 
chilly  attic  ?  Besides,  Pauline  surely  needed  the 
time  to  prepare  her  fancy  dress  costume.  What 
could  she  be  thinking  of  ?  She  was  a  mere  child 
after  all. 

Mrs.  Pettijohn  sat  like  incarnate  serenity  in  the 
large  easy  chair  before  the  fire,  thankful  that  she 
was  "  necessiated  "  to  remain  in  such  comfortable 
quarters.  She  little  thought  that  her  last  night's 
story,  like  a  "  wandering  witch-note,"  was  luring 
on  the  daughter  of  the  house  to  a  mazy  journey  in 
a  region  all  unknown. 

Out  of  doors  the  storm  seemed  only  to  have 
begun.  It  snowed  right  and  left  and  diagonally, 
troops  of  flakes  from  all  quarters  joining  in  white 
battle  to  the  bugle  music  of  the  wind. 

"  It  begun  this  way  about  half-past  seven,"  said 
Mrs.  Pettijohn,  "but  it  can't  last  long.  Folks 
used  to  say  when  I  lived  down  to  the  Cape,  that 
when  a  storm  comes  butt-end  foremost  it  blows 
itself  out  inside  of  eight  hours." 

Mrs.  Wyman  sincerely  hoped  "  folks  "  might  be 
right ;  otherwise  there  was  little  chance  that  her 
husband  would  be  able  to  reach  home  on  the  after- 
noon train. 

"Now,  where  shall  I  begin?"  said  the  "arctic 
explorer,"  peering  around  the  wintry  attic  like 
Nansen  searching  for  the  North  Pole.  It  was 
festooned  with  cobwebs,  and  carpeted  several 
inches  deep  with  old  newspapers. 


212  PAULINE   WYMAN. 

"  I  shall  probably  catch  a  microbe  !  If  I  were  a 
Japanese  I  should  be  afraid  of  stepping  on  a  spider 
who  might  be  one  of  my  ancestors ;  it's  a  sin  to 
kill  an  ancestor !  " 

Her  mother  had  lent  her  the  key  to  the  attic, 
but  no  other  keys  were  needed.  Her  father  had 
given  up  his  irksome  habit  of  locking  boxes  and 
trunks.  She  looked  around  for  the  "  leetle  mahog- 
any desk  with  brass  pulls."  There  it  was,  close  to 
the  eaves,  pretty  well  hidden  under  an  accumula- 
tion of  papers.  How  had  her  mother,  a  dainty 
housekeeper,  endured  such  rubbish  in  her  domains  ? 
Papa,  though  easy  and  amiable,  had  something  of 
the  tyrant  in  him,  or  he  would  not  have  imposed 
such  restrictions. 

"  Dear  old  Bluebeard  Wyman ! "  said  Pauline, 
between  a  smile  and  a  tear. 

The  mahogany  desk  was  a  pretty  piece  of  fur- 
niture, bursting  with  worthless,  mouldy  letters 
addressed  to  "  Honored  Sirs "  lying  in  their 
graves  from  "  Obedient  Servants  "  long  since  gone 
to  their  reward.  There  were  worm-eaten  invita- 
tions to  forgotten  balls  and  parties,  —  melancholy 
orgies  they  seemed  in  the  retrospect, — which  no 
one  now  living  had  ever  attended,  and  at  which  no 
one  but  uncanny  ghosts  had  ever  danced. 

"  What  an  old  house  this  is  when  one  thinks  of 
it !  The  people  who  lived  in  it  in  its  prime  are  all 
silent  now  in  the  graveyard  by  the  river.  'The 
youngest  of  'em  died  at  eighty-four.  All  dead  but 
me.  Seems  strange  ! '  as  Grandma  Pettijohn  says. 


"BLUEBEARD'S"   CHAMBER.  213 

I  wanted  to  put  my  arms  around  her  neck  then, 
the  dear  old  thing !  I  wish  she  had  somebody  to 
love  her ! " 

These  old  letters  were  in  the  desk,  and  business 
cards,  cuttings  from  old  newspapers,  balls  of 
candle-wicking,  a  pair  of  snuffers.  Pauline  wished 
the  professor  would  come  up  here  to  see  these  old 
things.  Her  father  seemed  to  hold  them  less 
sacred  than  formerly.  Perhaps  he  could  be  per- 
suaded to  make  an  exhibition  of  them  sometime, 
and  then  a  bonfire !  She  hoped  so. 

The  old  writing-desk  was  soon  disposed  of.  It 
held  nothing,  from  pigeon-holes  to  claw-feet,  of  the 
slightest  importance.  If  the  shades  of  the  de- 
parted ever  haunted  -this  region  at  midnight  they 
might  enjoy  such  dreary  relics ;  Pauline  soon  tired 
of  them. 

"  I  fear  I'm  not  a  true  antiquarian  in  my  tastes," 
she  thought,  but  kept  on  exploring. 

Was  she  searching  for  anything  in  particular? 
She  told  herself  that  she  merely  wanted  to  "  look 
around ; "  she  never  expected  or  desired  to  pay 
another  visit  to  Bluebeard's  room. 

"  Well,  here  are  two  chests,  a  bureau,  and  a 
little  brass-nailed  hair-trunk  !  How  old-fashioned  ! 
First  for  the  trunk." 

A  man's  cloth  cap,  a  tin  candle-mould,  and  a 
roll  of  old  letters  were  lying  in  it,  as  they  had 
probably  lain  for  years.  "Now  one  of  these  chests 
—  ah  !  here  are  deeds  ;  now  for  it !  " 

She  laughed  scornfully  at  her  own  foolishness ; 


214  PAULINE   WYMAN. 

still  she  untied  the  red  tape  and  fluttered  through 
the  dusty  heaps.  Of  course  she  did  not  expect 
to  find  anything  in  this  refuse  which  had  been 
searched  a  thousand  times.  She  was  not  a  con- 
firmed idiot,  whatever  Jim  might  say. 

Ugh !  how  the  wind  crept  in  at  the  loose  case- 
mepts !  She  began  to  feel  slightly  chilled,  and 
paused  to  warm  her  hands  at  the  rubber  bag.  It 
was  well  her  thoughtful  mother  had  insisted  on 
overshoes. 

Now  and  then,  on  the  floor  or  in  the  chests,  she 
came  upon  sheets  and  half-sheets  of  blank  paper 
which  ought  long  ago  to  have  been  given  the 
children  for  drawing  and  scribbling  purposes,  but 
her  father  would  have  been  horrified  at  the  dese- 
cration. Everything  here  was  sacred.  He  had 
even  been  at  the  trouble  of  burning  insect  powder 
and  scattering  gum  camphor  to  warn  off  the  moths. 

"  I'm  foolish  to  linger  here,  and  if  I  take  cold 
I  shall  never  hear  the  last  of  it  from  Jim." 

Pauline  had  wandered  back  to  the  eaves.  The 
large  old  secretary  stood  there  with  a  desk  mid- 
way toward  the  top,  —  a  rickety  old  affair  made 
in  Germany,  and  precious  alike  for  its  donor  and 
for  the  hardships  it  had  seen  by  sea  and  land. 

One  of  its  drawers  was  half-way  open,  and  no 
amount  of  pushing  could  close  it. 

"Well,  stay  open  then  !  I  don't  believe  you've 
been  shut  since  the  memory  of  man.  Any  num- 
ber of  papers  here,  but  they  can't  be  of  importance 
exposed  here  in  an  open  drawer." 


"BLUEBEARD'S"   CHAMBER.  215 

Pauline  turned  them  over  carelessly.  The  same 
endless  conglomeration  of  loose  letters,  letters  tied 
in  a  bundle,  and  packages  of  deeds.  One  stray 
paper  had  stuck  in  the  crack  of  the  drawer.  She 
took  pains  to  draw  it  out.  It  was  folded  like  a 
deed,  but  there  was  no  writing  on  it ;  it  was  mani- 
festly a  blank  sheet  of  foolscap,  which  nobody 
would  have  looked  at  a  second  time ;  nobody,  that 
is,  but  a  keen-eyed  and  critical  observer.  But  as 
Pauline  held  this  in  her  hand,  the  question  oc- 
curred to  her  why  that  sheet  of  foolscap  should 
ever  have  been  folded. 

"We  don't  usually  fold  blank  paper.  Could 
father  have  folded  it  ? " 

It  was  not  likely.  The  creases  were  jagged  and 
time-worn. 

"  I  don't  know  what  this  is,  but  it  probably  dates 
back  to  the  time  of  Melzar.  Rather  peculiar.  I 
may  as  well  take  a  look  at  it." 

She  opened  the  sheet. 

"  Blank  paper,  certainly.  But  what's  this  ?  It 
looks  like  part  of  a  pen  stroke,  faint,  very  faint. 
One, — two,  —  here's  another." 

The  windows  were  so  clouded  with  snow  that 
she  could  see  nothing  distinctly.  Those  were  not 
pen-strokes,  they  were  merely  flaws  in  the  paper  — 
or  parchment.  She  went  to  the  wheel-window, 
which  let  in  more  light  than  the  others.  It  was 
becoming  interesting. 

Why,  this  was  not  blank  paper !  Something 
must  have  been  written  here  once,  a  word  or  two 


216  PAULINE   WYMAN. 

at  any  rate.  She  could  discern  the  faintest  possi- 
ble traces  of  what  looked  like  parts  of  letters,  — 
the  long  tail  of  a^/  or  a^for  example,  the  upper 
parts  wanting. 

Had  her  father  ever  examined  these  ghostly  pen- 
strokes  ?  His  eyes  had  been  weakened  by  over- 
study,  and  it  was  only  of  late  that  he  would 
consent  to  wear  spectacles.  He  might  have  given 
this  paper  the  most  rigid  scrutiny  twenty  years 
ago  :  and  then  again,  it  would  be  hardly  strange  if 
he  had  only  glanced  at  it  casually.  At  any  rate,  it 
seemed  he  had  passed  judgment  upon  it  since  as 
worthless ;  and  after  doing  that  he  would  natu- 
rally let  it  alone  and  never  think  of  it  again. 

It  was  pretty  old.  It  must  have  been  up  here 
long  before  the  major  died.  Pauline  fell  into  deep 
thought  over  the  ancient  paper.  She  thought  and 
dreamed,  for  she  was  visionary  still,  this  hard- 
worked  child,  who  had  tried  so  long  to  develop  "a 
practical  turn." 

"  Up  with  the  bonnets  of  bonny  Dundee,"  she 
sang  at  last  in  a  triumphant  voice,  which  had  not 
rung  in  that  attic  before,  turned  her  back  upon 
the  north  pole,  folded  the  parchment  carefully, 
put  it  under  her  arm,  and  hurried  down-stairs. 

"  Here  I  am,  mother,  can't  you  welcome  me 
back  ?  I've  found  the  northwest  passage,  and 
now,  if  you  please,  I'd  like  to  get  thawed." 

A  smile  of  relief  broke  over  Mrs.  Wyman's  face. 
"  I  like  that,  Pauline  ;  I  didn't  expect  to  see  you 
so  soon.  I  was  almost  afraid  that  awful  fascina- 


Pauline's  Discovery  of  the  Will. — Page  216. 


"BLUEBEARD'S"  CHAMBER.  217 

tion  would  seize  upon  you,  and  you  wouldn't  know 
how  to  break  away." 

"  There  is  a  fascination  up  there,  mamma ;  I  can 
imagine  how  it  would  hold  one  like  the  Old  Man 
of  the  Sea.  I  don't  blame  my  poor  father  any 
more." 

Mrs.  Wyman  looked  at  Pauline  closely.  "Re- 
member, my  dear,  you've  promised." 

"  Yes,  mother,  can't  you  trust  me  ?  Mrs.  Petti- 
john  is  in  the  sitting-room,  isn't  she  ?  I'll  make 
myself  agreeable  to  her  while  I  warm  my  feet." 

It  is  to  be  feared,  however,  that  Pauline  proved 
but  indifferent  company.  She  propounded  any 
number  of  far-fetched  questions,  and  before  they 
could  be  answered  repeated  them,  very  much  to 
Mrs.  Pettijohn's  bewilderment. 

"  Sixty-four  years.  I  think  I've  heard  that  ink 
does  fade  out  completely  sometimes,  —  bad  ink. 
And  there's  a  way  of  restoring  it,  but  I  forget 
what  will  do  it."  Thus  ran  Pauline's  wandering 
thoughts. 

"  Father  would  know  instantly,  but  the  question 
might  set  his  wits  to  wool-gathering.  I'll  not  ask 
Jim ;  I'm  not  going  to  subject  myself  to  ridicule. 
Why  shouldn't  I  ask  Professor  Wishart  ?  It  is 
quite  in  his  line." 

Ah,  Pauline,  Pauline,  was  there  no  one  else  to 
inquire  of  but  Professor  Wishart  ? 

"  I  need  not  tell  him  the  circumstances.  '  Do 
you  know  just  what  will  restore  faded  ink?'  I'll 
say.  Just  this,  and  nothing  more.  /And  I  shall 


218  PAULINE   WYMAN. 

look  so  extremely  innocent,  that  he'll  never  dream 
there's  anything  more  at  stake  than  some  old  let- 
ter or  visiting-card. 

"  If  I  could  only  see  him  this  evening.  But  he 
is  on  his  way  to  Portland,  —  I  don't  see  why  he 
went  just  now,  —  and  I  dare  say  will  only  be  home 
in  time  for  the  Christmas  party,  even  if  he  comes 
then. 

"  Beg  pardon,  mother,  what  were  you  saying  ? " 

"  Have  you  decided  on  a  costume  for  the  fancy 
dress  party,  my  daughter  ? " 

Pauline  started  guiltily.  The  costume  which 
had  seemed  to  her  yesterday  of  grave  importance, 
requiring  hours  of  anxious  thought,  had  been  for- 
gotten, actually  forgotten,  till  this  very  moment. 

"  I  was  intending  to  talk  with  you,  mother,  about 
your  old  nun's  veiling,  if  you're  willing  to  lend  it 
to  me.  And  I  shall  be  so  glad  of  your  advice 
about  —  everything.  I  believe  I'm  feeling  rather 
dazed." 

"  A  little  thorough  wort  tea'll  be  complete  for  her 
to  take,  come  night,"  suggested  Grandma  Pettijohn, 
as  Pauline  went  for  the  nun's  veiling. 

The  sky  was  clearing,  and  later  the  good  old 
lady  was  conveyed  to  her  boarding-house  in  smil- 
ing content. 

She  reflected  behind  her  wraps  that  she  was 
"rather  glad  those  Wyman  children  took  it  so  easy 
about  Seth's  folks  having  their  money.  Never 
once  alluded  to  it  to-day.  Their  mother  needn't 
have  been  so  afeared  o'  their  knowing." 


"BLUEBEARD'S"  CHAMBER.  219 

Mr.  Wyman  arrived  at  seven,  looking  tired  and 
haggard,  having  been  delayed  a  little  by  a  snow 
blockade.  Pauline  kissed  him  on  the  perpendicular 
line  in  the  forehead,  which  she  called  "father's 
noon-mark,"  and  said  to  herself  that  now  she  knew 
why  the  mark  was  so  deeply  indented. 

"  Dear  father,"  she  thought,  "  I've  found  that 
some  hopes  are  cruel,  more  cruel  than  fears." 

No  allusion  was  made  by  any  one  to  her  raid  on 
the  attic,  and  Mrs.  Pettijohn's  visit  was  only  men- 
tioned casually.  Even  Jim  was  too  busy  over 
his  costume  to  ask  any  questions  about  arctic 
discoveries. 

And  all  the  while  the  fateful  parchment  lay  in 
Pauline's  beloved  writing-desk,  sallow  and  silent, 
biding  its  time. 


XIX. 

THE    SILENT    NUN. 

PAULINE  meant  to  keep  her  impersonation  of 
Mary  Stuart  a  profound  secret  from  Jim,  who  was 
equally  reserved  as  to  his  own  costume  and  char- 
acter. But  little  Arthur  reported  that  Polly  was 
going  all  in  white,  with  a  window-curtain  over 
her  head  ;  and  that  "  Jim's  feet  looked  awful 
funny,  some  like  a  cow's.  And  what  was  that 
thing  at  the  end  of  his  cane  ?  Looked  like  a 
great  big  fish-hook." 

Pauline's  quick  intelligence  divined  that  James 
was  to  be  Pluto,  carrying  a  trident,  and  she  meant 
to  keep  a  sharp  lookout  for  the  god  of  the  under- 
world ;  but  when  they  finally  entered  the  hall,  in 
full  dress,  she  forgot  Jim's  existence. 

Here  was  Wonderland.  She  had  often  dreamed 
of  it,  but  never  thought  to  see  it  with  her  waking 
eyes.  Who  were  all  these  fairy  folk,  glittering  in 
gold  and  silver  and  clad  in  garments  of  every  hue, 
like  a  garden  of  flowers,  color  on  color  ? 

No,  not  like  a  garden ;  more  like  a  tumultuous 
sea  of  rainbows.  Some  of  these  strange  beings  had 
stepped  out  of  history,  some  out  of  fable,  meeting 
here  on  common  ground  and  all  talking  in  character. 

Napoleon  Bonaparte  asked  the  Goddess  of 
Liberty,  with  imperial  rudeness,  what  right  she 
220 


THE   SILENT   NUN.  221 

had  to  wear  a  crown  ?  Hamlet  discoursed  on 
metaphysics  with  an  Indian  chief  in  war-paint 
and  feathers.  William  Penn  exchanged  "  thee's  " 
and  "thou's"  with  the  ancient  Queen  of  Sheba. 
George  Washington  begged  an  introduction  to 
the  Maid  of  Orleans,  who  forgot  to  shake  hands, 
but  looked  beyond  him,  at  spirits  in  the  distance. 
Undine,  in  misty  white,  glided  through  the  crowd, 
with  folded  hands,  and  long  fair  hair  veiling  her 
face.  She  was  seeking  her  false  knight,  Hilde- 
brand,  to  kiss  away  his  life. 

"  Eva  makes  a  capital  Undine,"  thought  Paul- 
ine, "  but  I  wish  I  could  get  at  her.  She  has  too 
much  powder  on  her  nose." 

Titan  ia,  with  her  attendant  fairies,  floated  by,  and 
James  Wyman,  in  the  character  of  Pluto,  waved 
his  trident  toward  the  airy  beings,  calling  out,  — 

"  Is  that  you,  little  Mustard  Seed  ?  Smart  fel- 
low !  You  and  your  kin  have  made  my  eyes 
water  ere  now  !  " 

Mustard  Seed  shook  his  roguish  head,  and  said 
to  his  little  companion,  Cobweb,  "  Let's  be  off. 
Who  wants  to  stay  here  to  be  insulted  by  Pluto, 
or  any  of  the  other  impudent  gods  ? " 

At  this,  Pluto  laughed  and  advised  Cobweb  not 
to  fly  too  high,  or  there  would  be  an  old  woman 
after  him  to  sweep  him  out  of  the  sky. 

His  godship  was  moving  on,  but  the  White 
Queen  caught  his  arm,  and  whispering,  "  Stop, 
Jim,"  drew  into  place  a  loose  fold  of  his  drapery, 
securing  it  with  a  pin. 


222  PAULINE  WYMAN. 

"See  here,  Paul,  this  is  you,"  whispered  Jim; 
"  but  who  on  earth  are  you  ? " 

"That's  for  you  to  find  out,  Mr.  Pluto.  I'm 
historical." 

"  Indeed,  ma'am  ;  then  how  do  you  happen  to 
keep  pins  in  your  pocket  ? " 

The  queen  laughed,  and  quickly  turned  away, 
leaving  Pluto  racking  his  ethereal  brains  to  recol- 
lect what  historical  characters  had  made  a  prac- 
tice of  dressing  in  white. 

"  I  hope  I  shall  fall  in  with  Queen  Elizabeth  ; 
she  ought  to  be  here,"  thought  the  unfortunate 
Mary  of  Scotland,  walking  slowly  along,  pausing 
here  and  there  to  admire  the  brilliant  costumes, 
making  low  obeisance  to  glorious  Night  and 
Morning,  and  laughing  behind  her  crape  veil 
when  John  Blythe  as  Brother  Jonathan  doffed  his 
white  hat  and  asked  the  Evening  Star  how  much 
she  paid  for  that  spangle  on  her  forehead.  Things 
were  "dirt  cheap  deown  his  way,"  he  drawled, 
flourishing  a  cotton  handkerchief  with  stars  and 
stripes,  which  "didn't  cost  him  but  six  cents, 
honor  bright." 

He  wished  to  know  what  the  White  Queen 
washed  her  clothes  with,  as  he  "  might  like  to 
peddle  some  of  the  soap." 

"  Who  be  you,  anyhow,  ma'am  ? " 

"  Mary  of  Scotland,  good  sir.  Have  you  seen 
aught  of  my  Cousin  Elizabeth  ? " 

"  Elizabeth  who  ?  I  ain't  any  acquainted  with 
your  folks  as  I  know  of,  and  it's  pretty  thick  set- 


THE   SILENT   NUN.  223 

tied  raound  here ;  but  tell  me  her  last  name,  and 
I'll  try  to  look  her  up." 

Pauline  walked  on  with  an  attempt  at  proper 
sobriety,  but  her  course  was  soon  blocked  by  the 
crowd  which  had  gathered  before  a  sombre  nun, 
standing  near  the  wall,  with  bowed  head,  counting 
her  beads. 

"Sister,"  she  asked  the  nun,  "hast  seen  aught 
of  Queen  Elizabeth  ? " 

For  reply  the  nun  shook  her  head,  and  Pauline, 
looking  at  her  critically,  saw  that  her  mouth  was 
closely  muffled  by  a  white  linen  band.  Little 
could  be  seen  of  her  face  under  the  black  bonnet, 
and  her  eyes  were  protected  by  a  shade. 

She  was  only  a  humble  Sister  of  Charity,  but 
it  had  been  noised  about  that  no  one  had  yet  been 
able  to  make  her  speak,  and  now  she  was  becom- 
ing an  object  of  marked  attention. 

"  She'll  soon  tire  of  it,"  said  one  and  another. 

"  A  vow  of  silence,  is  it,  the  miserable  papist ! " 
thundered  Oliver  Cromwell. 

"  If  she  were  a  monk  now,  that  might  answer," 
said  the  Wandering  Jew.  "  I  very  well  remember 
the  monks  of  La  Trappe,  when  they  saw  their 
cloisters  burn.  I  was  on  the  spot  myself,  and  they 
never  broke  their  vow  of  silence ;  but  a  woman  — 
pooh  !  She  can't  hold  out." 

"Who  were  you  before  you  took  the  veil,  Sis- 
ter ? "  asked  Di  Vernon.  "  Your  countenance 
looks  so  familiar." 

As  nothing  was  to  be  seen  of  it  but  the  tip  of 


224  PAULINE   WYMAN. 

the  nose,  there  was  great  hilarity,  and  the  crowd 
passed  on,  leaving  the  Queen  of  Scots  alone  with 
the  silent  nun. 

"  I  shall  talk  to  you,  my  sister,  whether  you  an- 
swer me  or  not.  A  worldly  scene  like  this  must 
pain  you.  Do  you  not  long  for  the  quiet  of  your 
cell?" 

The  nun  drew  a  deep  sigh  of  assent,  and  touched 
her  string  of  black  beads. 

"  Dear  Sister,  I  too  am  a  Romanist,"  said  Mary 
Stuart,  displaying  her  silver  crucifix.  "When  a 
child,  I  wished  to  be  a  nun  like  you ;  but,  alas, 
queens  cannot  have  their  way.  Well,  no  matter 
now.  I've  been  dead  three  hundred  years.  Are 
you  alive,  Sister  ? " 

The  bonnet  nodded. 

"  One  would  hardly  think  it  of  you.  You  seem 
very  dead,  Sister !  " 

The  nun's  figure  shook  a  little,  perhaps  with 
suppressed  laughter.  % 

At  this  moment  a  royal  personage  appeared, 
whose  high  ruff,  red  hair  and  crown  marked  her  at 
once  as  good  Queen  Bess.  Mary  sprang  toward 
her. 

"  Good  morrow,  Your  Highness  ;  wait,  I  implore 
you.  I  would  have  speech  with  you." 

"  I  know  you  not,"  replied  Elizabeth,  with  freez- 
ing dignity ;  and  her  voice  betrayed  her  as  Victoria 
Raymond. 

"  You  would  not  pass  me  by ;  I  am  a  queen," 
pleaded  Mary. 


THE   SILENT  NUN  225 

"An  English  queen?"  asked  Elizabeth,  looking 
at  her  critically. 

"  That  question,  Your  Highness,  has  never  yet 
been  answered.  I  once  used  a  seal  with  two  crowns 
on  it,  and  the  motto,  '  A  third  awaits  me.'  " 

"  Beshrew  me,  but  I  know  you  now  for  that 
liar,  Mary  Stuart.  Let  me  pass." 

But  the  silent  nun  laid  a  detaining  hand  on  her 
Majesty's  shoulder. 

"  Who  are  you,  you  wretched  papist  ? "  cried 
the  angry  Elizabeth.  "  And  by  what  right  do  you 
stop  me  ? " 

"  She  is  a  pious  nun  under  a  vow  of  silence," 
returned  Queen  Mary,  gently.  "  She  would  have 
you  wait  and  confer  with  me." 

"  So  be  it  then  for  a  moment.  But,  Mary,  you 
always  stood  in  my  way.  I  have  no  love  for  you  ; 
that  you  know,"  said  Elizabeth,  her  eyes  flashing. 

It  seemed  like  excellent  acting,  but  there  was 
a  touch  of  realism  in  it.  Tory  Raymond  had 
recognized  Pauline  Wyman,  and  was  glad  of  this 
opportunity  of  freeing  her  mind  to  her,  under 
cover  of  a  mask. 

This  was  evident  enough  to  the  silent  nun  who 
knew  both  the  girls,  and  evident  to  Pauline,  who 
said  to  herself,  — 

"Tory  can  berate  me  now  to  her  heart's  con- 
tent ;  she  always  longed  to  do  it." 

"  You  are  my  natural  enemy,  Mary  Stuart ! " 
said  Elizabeth. 

"And  you  are  mine,"  thought  Pauline;  "a 
Q 


226  PAULINE   WYMAN. 

worse  one  than  you  dream.  But  the  adopted 
Wymans  are  an  honorable  race,  and  noblesse  oblige. 
I'll  try  for  once  in  my  life  to  keep  my  temper." 
And  she  held  her  peace. 

"What  brought  you  here,  Mary?"  cried  Eliza- 
beth Tudor,  raising  her  hand  almost  as  if  she 
would  have  struck  her  cousin. 

The  silent  nun  repeated  to  herself  the  words 
of  the  old  ballad  :  — 

" (  With  that  she  smote  her  on  the  lips 

So  dyed  double  red. 
Hard  was  the  heart  that  gave  the  blow, 
Soft  were  the  lips  that  bled.1 " 

For  though  the  blow  had  not  been  struck,  the 
queen  of  the  Stuarts  was  cowering  a  little  and 
drawing  nearer  to  the  watchful  nun. 

"What  brought  you  here,  Mary,  and  how  dare 
you,  a  sinner,  come  in  white  ? " 

" I  wear  it  in  honor  of  la  belle  France"  said 
Mary,  pensively.  "  Centuries  have  passed,  as  mor- 
tals count  time,  since  I  was  wedded  in  white  at 
Notre  Dame ;  and  you  know,  royal  cousin,  when 
the  amiable  Francis  died  I  wore  it  again,"  waving 
her  long  veil.  "It  was  my  widow's  garb.  I  was 
known  among  the  people  as  the  White  Queen." 

"The  Whited  Sepulchre  it  should  have  been! 
After  that,  Mary,  you  married  Darnley,  and  —  you 
murdered  him  ! " 

"  God  save  your  Grace,  that  was  a  slander !  " 

"No,  go  to,  Mary  Stuart,  you  were  a  wicked 
murderess ! " 


THE   SILENT   NUN.  227 

"  Do  you,  Elizabeth  Tudor,  taunt  me  with  mur- 
der ;  you,  who  signed  my  death-warrant  ?  Look 
at  your  hands !  Wot  you  not  they  are  yet  red 
with  my  blood  ?  " 

"  Well  said  ! "  exclaimed  Benjamin  Franklin, 
who  had  been  listening  with  several  others  to  this 
animated  conversation,  "  well  said  !  I'll  leave  it 
to  the  nun  if  it  wasn't.  Have  you  anything  to 
answer  back,  Betsey  ? " 

Elizabeth  was  speechless  for  a  moment.  Ben 
Franklin  was  evidently  Frank  Joslin,  and  she  did 
not  relish  his  championship  of  Pauline,  even  in 
play.  Her  own  costume  had  been  studied  care- 
fully from  reliable  pictures ;  she  had  spared  no 
pains  or  expense  in  procuring  a  red  wig  and  mag- 
nificent jewels  ;  yet  here  was  Pauline  triumphant 
in  an  old  gown,  unadorned.  .  It  was  really  too  vex- 
ing. She  glared  on  her,  retorting,  — 

"  As  for  my  signing  your  death-warrant,  Mary 
Stuart,  everybody  knows  that  was  a  'terrible 
accident.' " 

"  So  you  said,  sweet  cousin !  But  when  you 
shut  me  up  in  Lochleven  Castle  for  nearly  eigh- 
teen years,  methinks  that  was  not  an  accident." 

"  Mary  Stuart,  you  know  well  that  as  queen  of 
England  I  could  not  allow  you  your  liberty.  Had 
you  not  plotted  against  my  crown  ?  " 

"  Your  crown,  O  mighty  queen  !  " 

"  You  couldn't  have  hurt  her  much  if  you  had 
tried,  could  you,  little  Mary  ? "  said  Franklin,  with 
a  nod.  "  Though  I  do  suppose  Betsey  might  have 


228  PAULINE  WYMAN. 

let  you  alone  if  you  had  been  content  with  Scot- 
tish thistles  and  hadn't  looked  at  English  roses." 

He  smiled  so  mischievously  that  his  hearers 
knew  he  had  in  mind  Professor  Wishart,  whom 
the  college  boys  sometimes  spoke  of  even  now  as 
the  English  Rose. 

Queen  Bess  turned  away  in  angry  confusion. 
What  had  she  ever  said  or  done  to  indicate  a  pref- 
erence for  university  professors  ?  Frank  Joslin 
was  certainly  no  gentleman. 

As  she  moved  away  in  one  direction,  and  Mr. 
Joslin  in  another,  Pauline  still  remained  standing 
near  the  silent  nun,  blushing,  she  scarcely  knew 
why.  If  people  had  been  "saying  things,"  just 
because  the  professor  was  so  kind  as  to  hear  her 
lessons,  then  people  were  very  foolish,  and  she 
only  hoped  Mr.  Wishart  would  never  hear  of  it. 

At  that  moment,  however,  the  nun  chanced  to 
raise  her  left  hand  in  telling  her  beads,  and,  to 
Pauline's  intense  surprise,  it  was  no  other  than 
Professor  Wishart's  hand,  long  and  shapely,  and 
bearing  on  the  third  finger  a  pink  pearl  ring. 

She  uttered  an  involuntary  exclamation,  where- 
upon there  was  an  audible  laugh  from  the  muffled 
mouth  of  her  companion.  He  drew  out  a  note- 
book, and  scribbled  a  few  sentences  on  a  leaf, 
which  he  handed  her  unobserved. 

"  I  forgot  to  take  off  my  ring,  but  I'm  glad  you 
found  me  out.  I  came  home  this  evening  too 
late  to  get  up  a  costume,  and  your  brother  and 
Ned  Hallett  borrowed  this  nun's  suit  for  me, 


THE   SILENT   NUN.  229 

and  put  me  under  bonds  not  to  speak  for  the 
evening." 

"  What  a  capital  disguise  !  I  was  sure  I  knew 
you,  but  couldn't  think  of  a  woman  so  tall,  and, 
of  course,  never  dreamed  of  your  being  a  man," 
laughed  Pauline,  as  the  professor  slipped  off  the 
telltale  ring  and  deposited  it  in  his  vest-pocket 
under  the  voluminous  folds  of  his  gown. 

"I'm  so  glad  of  this  chance  for  a  word  with 
you,  Mr.  Wishart,"  said  Pauline  in  low  tones. 

"  Are  you  making  her  speak  ? "  asked  some  one 
in  the  crowd  passing. 

"  Oh,  no  ;  only  pouring  my  troubles  into  her 
ears,  good  sir !  " 

Then,  in  a  whisper  to  the  nun,  — 

"  I  have  a  question  to  ask  you." 

"  Is  it  anything  of  importance  ? "  wrote  the 
Sister.  "  You  seem  perturbed." 

"Oh,  it's  nothing,  Mr.  Wishart,  just  nothing; 
and  I  mustn't  tell  you  what  it  is.  See  how  the 
people  watch  us." 

"  Then  I  fear  I  cannot  help  you,  Pauline." 

"  Yes,  you  can,  Mr.  Wishart.  But  I  don't  want 
you  to  think  I'm  perturbed.  I'm  not  in  the  least ; 
or  if  I  am,  you  mustn't  notice  it." 

As  she  said  this  with  delightful  incoherence, 
her  head  went  back  royally,  and  the  nun's  drooped 
with  silent  laughter.  They  were  certainly  carry- 
ing on  a  conversation  under  great  difficulties. 

"  It's  the  simplest  thing  in  the  world,  Professor 
Wishart,  if  I  could  only  explain  it  to  you  without 


230  PAULINE   WYMAN. 

being  overheard.  Pray  tell  me  if  ink  ever  fades. 
That  is,  how  long  does  it  take  ?  And  where  do 
you  have  to  put  it  to  make  it  fade  ?  " 

He  wrote  back,  — 

"  Was  it  spilled  on  white  cloth  ?  If  so,  the 
stain  can  be  removed  easily." 

"How  stupid  I  am!"  exclaimed  Pauline.  "I 
don't  want  to  get  ink  out.  I  want  to  get  it  in  ! " 

The  professor  cleared  his  throat  in  some  be- 
wilderment. 

"  I  mean  I  want  to  restore  it !  I  began  with 
my  questions  at  the  wrong  end,  Mr.  Wishart ;  for 
the  truth  is,  I  don't  really  know  whether  there's 
anything  there  to  restore." 

"Is  the  cloth  fine?  I  may  be  able  to  judge 
better  after  you  have  shown  it  to  me.  Possibly 
paint,  you  know ;  possibly  wheel-grease,"  wrote 
Professor  Wishart,  hopelessly  befogged. 

Pauline  threw  back  her  veil,  and  laughed  wildly. 

"  Oh,  dear,  dear,  dear !  This  comes  of  trying 
to  be  so  very  reserved  and  secretive.  It's  not 
cloth,  it's  paper, — paper  at  least  forty  years  old. 
It  looks  blank,  but  I  fancy  I  can  spy  faint  traces 
of  a  pen." 

Professor  Wishart  was  becoming  somewhat  en- 
lightened now,  and  so  curious  that  he  was  on  the 
point  of  forgetting  himself  and  speaking. 

"  I  might  show  it  to  father,  but  there  are  rea- 
sons why  it  is  not  best.  And  though  I  don't  like 
to  trouble  you  —  But  what  do  I  say  ?  I  will  not 
trouble  you  !  I  merely  wish  to  ask  —  " 


"  '  Pray  tell  me  if  ink  ever  fades.'  "  —  Page  230. 


THE   SILENT   NUN.  231 

"  Where  is  the  paper  ? "  wrote  the  professor. 
"  You  did  not  bring  it  here  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no  ;  it  belongs  to  my  father.  Am  I  talk- 
ing too  loud?  What  a  noise!  If  anything  was 
ever  written  on  it,  and  has  faded  out,  can  the  writ- 
ing be  restored  ?  There,  that  was  what  I  meant 
to  say  in  the  first  place." 

"  Faded  ink  can  be  restored,  certainly,  — that  is, 
if  it  has  a  basis  of  iron.  The  new,  cheap  inks  of 
aniline  dyes  are  quite  another  thing." 

"  So  I  thought.     Well,  this  must  be  good,  or- 
thodox ink,  for  aniline  dyes  weren't  heard  of  - 
here   she    was    interrupted  —  "weren't    heard    of 
when  Major  Wyman  made  his  will." 

Ah,  a  will  indeed !  The  whole  story  was  com- 
ing out  presently,  thought  the  professor ;  but  he 
only  wrote  calmly,  — 

"Try  sulphide  of  ammonia." 

"  Thank  you,  thank  you !  " 

"Wet  the  paper  first,  then  apply  the  solution 
with  a  sponge." 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Wishart,  if  you'll  only  do  it  for  me  !  " 
cried  Pauline,  forgetting  that  she  had  resolved  not 
to  trouble  him.  "  I  might  not  get  it  of  the  right 
strength,  or  might  tear  it  —  I  mean  the  paper." 

"  I  will  do  it  for  you,  if  you  will  trust  me.  You 
know  nothing  delights  me  so  much  as  to  oblige  you." 

The  words,  though  only  in  cold  pencil-mark, 
sent  a  glow  to  Pauline's  heart.  He  would  not 
have  said  that  if  he  had  thought  her  forward 
and  presuming. 


232  PAULINE   WYMAN. 

"You  are  very  kind,  Professor  Wishart.  Sup- 
pose you  come  'round  to-morrow  evening,  and  bring 
the  sulphide  of  ammonia.  Oh,  if  it  should  prove 
to  be  ink !  But  we'll  try  to  prepare  for  the 
worst ! " 

"  Did  you  make  that  nun  speak  ? "  asked  the 
Wandering  Jew,  as  he  met  Mary  Stuart  at  the 
close  of  the  evening.  "  I  saw  you  were  doing 
your  best." 

And  the  queen  replied,  — 

"  She  never  uttered  a  syllable !  " 


XX. 

AN    EXPERIMENT. 

PROFESSOR  WISHART  went  to  Mr.  Wyman's  next 
evening,  taking  with  him  his  magic  lantern.  The 
pictures  proved  a  brilliant  success,  and  the  chil- 
dren had  now  gone  to  bed  drawing  deep  breaths 
of  satisfaction. 

Pauline  stood  by  the  kitchen  stove,  making  a 
pretence  of  scraping  the  candy-kettle,  Professor 
Wishart  by  the  table,  pouring  something  from  a 
bottle  into  a  cup.  It  was  understood  that  he 
was  busy  with  a  chemical  experiment,  and  must 
not  be  disturbed. 

As  James  and  Mrs.  Rix  were  both  gone  out 
for  the  evening,  and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Wyman  were 
in  the  sitting-room,  it  was  a  favorable  time  to 
put  the  sheet  of  ecru  parchment  to  the  test,  and 
settle  once  for  all  wheth'er  it  were  a  thing  of  vital 
interest  or  only  a  piece  of  worthless  foolscap. 

"  First  you  are  to  wet  it  thoroughly,  you  say," 
said  Pauline,  suspending  her  knife  in  air.  "  Please 
wait  a  minute ;  I'm  coming  to  the  table  to  watch 
you.  I  must  see  every  movement.  I  don't  be- 
lieve much  in  this ;  do  you,  Professor  Wishart  ? " 

"  It's  not  my  business  to  believe  or  disbelieve, 
it's  my  business  to  experiment,"  said  he,  with  an 
immovable  face. 

233 


234  PAULINE  WYMAN. 

"Ye-es." 

"  Pray  give  me  another  lamp.  This  thing  needs 
a  good  light,  and  a  fair  perspective." 

"Certainly;  there's  something  wrong  with  that 
lamp.  Mrs.  Rix  says  '  it  doesn't  give  enough  light 
to  show  a  man  the  way  to  the  tomb.' ' 

And,  laughing,  Pauline  ran  and  brought  two 
more  large  lamps,  lighted  them,  and  set  them  on 
the  table.  Her  manner  was  eager  and  nervous, 
but  without  a  vestige  of  the  extreme  reserve  which 
had  characterized  it  for  the  past  few  months.  She 
had  forgotten  all  that  in  the  new  interest  at  stake. 

"  Oh,  don't  be  in  haste,  Professor  Wishart.  It 
doesn't  seem  reasonable,  now  does  it,  that  this  can 
be  the  will  ?  You  know  I  only  guess  at  it." 

"A  golden  guess.  Well,  we  both  doubt  whether 
we  have  anything  here  but  blank  parchment,  but 
we'll  give  it  the  benefit  of  the  doubt." 

And  he  was  about  to  apply  the  sponge  when 
Pauline  stopped  him. 

"  Wait  a  minute,  I  want  to  be  calm,  very  calm, 
before  you  begin.  You  say  the  writing  will  come 
up  suddenly  if  there's  any  there.  As  buried  mem- 
ories rise  in  the  mind  when  we're  drowning." 

"  I  did  not  say  just  that,"  returned  the  professor, 
smiling,  "but  'twill  rise  suddenly." 

Pauline  started  and  trembled. 

"Oh,  I  thought  somebody  was  coming,"  she 
said,  as  Peggy,  the  cat,  walked  in  softly,  having 
lifted  the  old-fashioned  door-latch  with  her  paw. 

Professor  Wishart  had  laid  the  dry  sponge  back 
upon  the  table. 


AN   EXPERIMENT.  235 

"This  is  like  the  trial  of  the  Pyx,"  said  he,  wish- 
ing to  cause  a  diversion.  "  I  mean  the  annual 
testing  of  the  gold  and  silver  coins  in  the  English 
mint." 

"  So  it  is.  And  we  Americans  test  our  coins, 
too.  Oh,  wee !  Oh,  wee !  We  shall  soon  know 
whether  we  have  the  real  thing  here,  or  only  such 
stuff  as  dreams  are  made  of." 

"  My  dear  girl,  don't  hope,  or  you  are  likely  to 
suffer  a  cruel  disappointment." 

"Oh,  I  don't  hope,  it's  unreasonable.  This  is 
what  father  calls  the  'supposable  impossible,'  just 
an  ideal,"  said  Pauline,  with  a  tremulous  smile 
which  tried  to  be  very  mature  and  very  con- 
siderate. 

"But  before  we  go  any  farther,  Mr.  Wishart,  I 
want  to  give  you  the  particulars,  for  I  think 
you've  a  right  to  know." 

And  she  told,  in  her  impassioned  way,  the  whole 
story,  so  far  as  known  to  her,  of  the  old  bachelor, 
Melzar  Wyman,  and  the  adopted  boy,  her  own 
grandfather,  whose  son  had  been  defrauded  by  "a 
man  in  this  town  with  a  very  feeble  and  inadequate 
conscience,  Mr.  Seth  Raymond." 

"Not  Miss  Victoria's  father?" 

The  story  was  new  to  Mr.  Wishart.  Twenty 
years  ago,  even  ten  years  ago,  the  Eveleth  people 
might  have  discussed  the  affair  with  him  ;  they  had 
often  done  so  then  with  strangers,  throwing  in  very 
unflattering  comments  upon  Mr.  Raymond,  who 
was  "too  grasping  to  be  honest."  But  it  was  an 


236  PAULINE   WYMAN. 

old  story  now,  seldom  mentioned  except  casually 
by  one  old  resident  to  another. 

"  My  dear  Pauline,  a  large  fortune,  really  a  large 
fortune?  You  overwhelm  me." 

"  Try  to  bear  it,  Mr.  Wishart.  Has  that  sponge 
been  dipped  in  the  solution  ?  I'm  ready." 

"  No,  I  am  merely  wetting  the  paper  with  water 
now.  Don't  you  see,  Pauline,  since  I  learn  how 
much  is  at  stake,  I'm  dreading  to  begin  ? " 

"You,  too  ?     Why,  what  have  you  to  dread  ? " 

"  More  than  you  think.  You  and  I  are  good 
friends  now,  are  we  not,  Pauline  ? " 

"  Oh,  certainly." 

"But  reflect  a  moment.  If  you  "become  an 
heiress,  you  cause  me  to  reconstruct  my  opinion  of 
you." 

"  Yes  ;  I  shall  be  quite  another  person.  Noth- 
ing to  do  any  longer  but  paint  and  embroider  and 
dance  and  travel.  I  shall  be  a  fin  de  sihle  young 
lady  of  elegant  leisure.  Just  fancy,"  said  Pauline, 
looking  dreamily  into  the  distance. 

"And  I  shall  not  like  that  or  any  change  in 
you.  You  suit  me  just  as  you  are." 

The  look  said  more  than  the  words, — said  so 
much,  indeed,  that  Pauline  was  disconcerted  for  a 
moment,  and  could  only  stammer  out,  — 

"  Oh,  I  thought  you  must  think  — 

What  she  meant  to  say  she  did  not  know,  but 
something  about  having  made  him  so  much  trouble. 
He  took  up  her  words. 

"  I  have  never  yet  told  you  what  I  think  of  you, 


AN   EXPERIMENT.  237 

Pauline.  I  was  very  near  it  once,  some  time  ago. 
Since  that  I  have  been  waiting.  You  seemed 
more  like  yourself  last  night,  I  almost  dared. 
And  now  a  fortune  —  or  an  ill  fortune  —  must  not 
step  in  and  make  a  barrier  between  us  !  " 

"  How  could  it  ? "  said  Pauline.  Her  eyes 
still  kept  the  far-away  look.  He  was  talking 
of  some  contingency  remote,  impossible ;  yet  the 
words  thrilled  her  with  a  new  apprehension,  sweet 
and  vague,  like  something  foretold  in  a  dream. 
And  his  voice  —  what  a  fine,  sweet  baritone  it 
was  !  — fell  on  her  ears  like  music. 

"  You  know  I  am  a  proud  man,  Pauline.  If  I 
make  a  wall  between  you  and  me,  how  am  I  going 
to  scale  it  ?  "  $ 

"You. can't  make  a  wall  between  friends,  real 
friends,  Mr.  Wishart." 

Pauline  involuntarily  drew  nearer. 

"  Will  you  give  me  your  hand  on  that  ? "  said 
the  young  man,  dropping  the  sponge,  which  left  a 
wet  impress  on  the  table. 

"  There,  does  that  settle  it,  Professor  Wishart  ? 
I  did  not  know  you  could  say  such  foolish  things," 
said  Pauline,  touching  the  foolscap  with  trembling 
fingers.  "Besides,  you  ought  to  know  that  the 
Wymans  can't  be  rich  if  they  have  a  dozen  fort- 
unes left  them.  My  father  is  the  exact  opposite 
of  Midas,  who  turned  everything  he  touched  to 
gold.  If  father  touches  gold,  it  turns  to  some- 
thing else." 

Then   as    Professor   Wishart    did    not   answer, 


238  PAULINE   WYMAN. 

or  seem  to  consider  what  she  said,  but  still  looked 
at  her,  she  went  on  irrelevantly,  — 

"  This  is  what  you  may  call  '  a  lamentable  com- 
edy,' isn't  it  ?  I  don't  quite  know  what  we've  been 
talking  about,  do  you?  Only  we  hesitate,  and 
dare  not  put  this  thing  to  the  test." 

"  Well,  then,  Pauline,  let  us  be  sensible.  Now, 
there's  one  thing  to  be  considered  about  this  will, 
if  it  should  turn  out  to  be  a  will, — the  witnesses 
are  probably  all  dead." 

"No;  didn't  I  tell  you?  Mrs.  Pettijohn,  the 
old  lady  who  started  me  on  the  search,  was  one  of 
the  witnesses." 

"  Is  that  so  ?  Then  there  would  be  no  tedious 
delay  in  proving  handwriting." 

"  No,  I've  thought  of  that.  I  know  something 
about  probate  courts.  But  what  are  we  waiting 
for,  Professor  Wishart  ? " 

"What  indeed?"  returned  he,  collecting  himself 
and  taking  up  the  wet  sponge. 

He  dipped  the  sponge  into  the  solution. 
Pauline's  heart  throbbed  high,  her  breath  came 
fast.  Of  course  she  had  been  cherishing  a  delu- 
sion, but  at  least  no  one  beside  Professor  Wishart 
need  ever  know.  It  was  a  secret  between  them. 
Even  Jim  had  been  spared  this  suspense. 

But  look !  Why,  what  was  this  ?  Wherever 
the  sponge  touched  the  paper,  a  line  of  black  ap- 
peared, written  words  leaped  up  to  view ! 

What  words  ?  Another  invitation  to  a  ghostly 
ball  ?  Another  letter  to  an  Honored  Sir  ? 


AN   EXPERIMENT.  239 

The  sponge  had  begun  at  the  middle  of  the 
page,  it  travelled  upward.  Near  the  top  the  magi- 
cal sentence  flashed  out, — 

"  I,  Melzar  Wyman,  of  sound  mind,  do  will  and 
bequeath  —  " 

"  That's  it,  that's  it ! "  cried  Pauline,  with  a 
quick  scream  of  delight. 

It  was  as  plain  as  print.     She  read  on  aloud,  — 

"  Do  bequeath  to  my  dear  adopted  son,  George 
Wyman,  all  my  real  and  personal  property  herein 
described,  with  the  exception  of  fifteen  thousand 
dollars,  which  I  leave  in  equal  shares  to  my  faith- 
ful servants,  John  Andrews  and  Martha  Reese, 
their  heirs  and  assigns." 

Then  followed  minute  descriptions  of  farms, 
mills,  and  bank  stock,  and  last  of  all  the  signa- 
tures of  Melzar  Wyman  and  three  witnesses,  dated 
October  22,  1833. 

It  was  the  original  will.  Professor  Wishart  said 
there  could  be  no  reasonable  doubt  of  it.  Not  a 
word  or  a  comma  missing.  It  had  waked  to  life 
after  a  sleep  of  more  than  half  a  century,  —  a  new 
life,  prepared  to  undo  past  wrongs  and  fulfil  at 
last  the  wishes  of  the  testator,  Melzar  Wyman. 
All  this  was  not  to  be  apprehended  in  a  mo- 
ment. 

"  O  father,  poor  father  !  "  gasped  Pauline,  whirl- 
ing around  in  a  mad  dance.  "  When  he  had  quite 
given  up  hope  !  And  mother,  dear  patient  mother, 
bearing  it  all  without  a  word.  And  Jim,  too,  think 
of  Jim  ! " 


240  PAULINE   WYMAN. 

"  And  Pauline,  is  it  forbidden  to  think  of  Paul- 
ine?" said  Professor  Wishart,  smiling  to  note  her 
characteristic  ignoring  of  self. 

Would  this  excitement  prove  too  much  for  her  ? 
She  was  of  a  super-sensitive  organization,  and  we 
are  told  that  "with  melody's  divine  excess  the 
crowded  reed  may  break."  He  wanted  to  stay  and 
watch  the  workings  of  her  mind,  and  see  her  re- 
cover her  equipoise,  but  felt  with  a  pang  that  he 
had  no  right  to  linger.  He  must  leave  her  to 
break  this  astonishing  news  to  her  family  without 
the  intrusive  presence  of  an  outsider. 

"I'll  not  stop  now  to  offer  my  congratulations, 
Pauline,  I'll  come  later  for  that.  Will  you  please 
make  my  adieux  to  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Wyman?  Good 
night."  And,  without  trusting  himself  even  to 
take  her  hand,  he  was  gone. 

This  heroic  self-denial  was  rather  overdone. 

"  How  can  he  be  so  cold  to  me  ?  And  I  thought 
we  were  dear  friends.  Why,  I  want  him  here  this 
minute  to  tell  me  what  to  do,"  thought  Pauline, 
dropping  a  belated  tear,  which  came  of  a  tumult 
of  conflicting  emotions. 

So  little  did  she  dream  that  the  man  had 
achieved  a  cruel  victory  over  himself  by  running 
away ! 

She  went  to  the  sitting-room  door  and  opened 
it.  Her  father's  back  was  toward  her.  She  beck- 
oned to  her  mother,  who  arose  and  followed  her 
into  the  kitchen. 

"I'd  like  to  show  you  Professor  Wishart's  chemi- 


AN   EXPERIMENT.  241 

cal  experiment,  mother.  It  is  something  very  sur- 
prising, but  you  must  not  speak  aloud,  for  that 
would  excite  father ;  he's  not  to  know  yet.  '  Pit 
on  your  speckets.' " 

Mrs.  Wyman  mechanically  raised  her  eye-glasses. 

"  A  chemical  experiment,  did  you  say  ?  Why, 
this  is  nothing  but  a  sheet  of  wet  paper." 

At  that  moment  James  entered  the  room,  whis- 
tling. 

"  What's  up,  Paul  ?  What  are  you  capering 
about  in  this  way  for?" 

"Hush,  Jim,  hush!  Father  isn't  to  know  till 
morning.  Here's  the  will,  here's  the  will !  " 

Mrs.  Wyman  read  aloud  slowly,  — 

"  I,  Melzar  Wyman,"  and  gave  a  diminutive 
scream. 

"  Oh,  don't,  mother,  don't  make  a  noise  !  "  said 
Pauline,  pressing  her  hand  over  her  mother's  mouth. 

"  Stop  that !  "  cried  James.  "  My  own  mother 
shan't  be  strangled  !  " 

He  made  a  dash  for  the  paper. 

"  It's  wet,"  cried  Pauline  ;  "  you'll  tear  it." 

Mrs.  Wyman  was  regarding  the  document  with 
a  fixed  stare,  repeating  in  an  awed  whisper,  — 

"I,  Melzar  Wyman." 

"  A  fellow'd  like  to  know  what  all  this  is 
about,"  said  James. 

"  Didn't  you  hear  me  say  'twas  the  will  ?  I 
found  it  in  the  attic  the  other  day." 

"  Really,  when  I  saw  you  in  that  pumpkin- 
hood —  " 


242  PAULINE  WYMAN. 

"  But,  James,  can't  you  see  I'm  in  earnest  ?  It's 
the  genuine,  reliable  old  will." 

"No,  it's  a  forgery,"  said  Mrs.  Wyman,  in  low, 
excited  tones.  "A  chemical  joke,  James,  and  I, 
for  one,  call  it  a  poor  joke." 

"  Please  listen  to  me,  both  of  you,"  said  Pauline, 
with  a  commanding  gesture. 

Having  raised  now  such  a  tumult  in  other  minds, 
her  own  mind  was  strangely  calm.  It  seemed  to 
her  that  this  wonderful  thing  had  happened  so  long 
ago  that  it  had  become  a  part  of  her  own  life. 

"  It's  not  strange  at  all  when  you  hear  the 
explanation." 

She  gave  the  history  of  the  paper  from  her  find- 
ing itjn  blank,  to  the  present  time.  Her  hearers 
were  naturally  incredulous ;  but  when  at  last  con- 
vinced, there  was  a  little  scene  in  the  old  kitchen. 

"Three  cheers  for  our  only  one  !  "  cried  James, 
in  a  whisper  that  was  half  a  shout,  and  turned  a 
neat  somersault  in  the  middle  of  the  floor. 

Mrs.  Wyman  caught  her  daughter  around  the 
neck,  and  gave  way  to  the  wildest  sobbing.  This 
unnerved  Jim  completely,  and  fearing  he  could  not 
maintain  a  decorous  composure,  he  stole  out  "to 
get  his  bearings "  under  the  light  of  the  stars. 
Pauline  brought  her  mother  a  glass  of  water,  say- 
ing playfully,  — 

"  Remember,  mother  dear,  it  might  have  been 
worse  !  We'll  try  to  bear  up,  won't  we,  for  father's 
sake." 

"  But  Pauline,  my  sister-daughter,  it's  the  'bear- 


AN   EXPERIMENT.  243 

ing  up '  that  has  hurt  me.  And  now  the  blessed 
relief !  Let  me  cry  a  minute,  and  then  I'll  have 
done." 

"  Cry  on  my  shoulder,  sister-mother.  Cry  till 
you're  satisfied.  It  breaks  my  heart  to  think  how 
you've  been  keeping  guard  over  yourself  all  these 
days  and  years,  and  I  never  knew  it." 

Mrs.  Wyman  smiled  through  her  tears.  "There's 
only  one  drawback  to  this  glorious  news,  Pauline. 
Your  poor  father  — " 

"  Yes,  I  know,  mamma.  It  must  be  broken  to 
him  gently.  Let  me  undertake  it.  Rest  easy. 
I'll  do  it  as  softly  as  a  zephyr  putting  a  flower  to 
sleep.  I'll  do  it  to-morrow.  Trust  me  for  that. 
I'll  study  out  a  way,  sister-mother." 

It  had  been  the  most  remarkable  evening  of 
Pauline's  life,  and  she  lay  awake  that  night  for 
hours,  thinking  over  the  strange  events. 

As  if  the  finding  of  hidden  wealth  had  not  been 
startling  enough,  something  else  had  come  to  light 
that  touched  her  far  more  deeply  than  the  recovered 
fortune.  The  fortune  was  for  her  wronged  father, 
she  could  not  think  of  it  yet  for  herself ;  but  this 
other  thing  was  for  her  alone. 

Why  had  Mr.  Wishart  said,  "  I've  never  told  you 
what  I  think  of  you,"  and  what  had  he  meant  by 
looking  at  her  in  that  deep  way  ? 

Or  had  there  been  a  glamour  over  her  eyes,  and 
had  his  looks  meant  nothing  more  than  the  usual 
cool  kindness  ?  He  had  spoken  of  the  barrier 
money  might  raise.  Was  he  thinking  of  such  a 


244  PAULINE   WYMAN. 

barrier  when  he  went  away  without  shaking 
hands  ? 

Or  had  he  gone  in  mere  indifference  because 
his  heart  was  "  entirely  English  "  ? 

Would  that  she  knew  ! 


XXI. 

THE    END. 

NEXT  morning  the  sky  was  closely  veiled  in 
white. 

"What  a  mystical  look  everything  wears,"  said 
Pauline.  "  No,  father,  don't  move.  I'm  only 
taking  up  a  few  shreds  with  the  carpet-sweeper. 
I  was  just  thinking  that  this  is  the  very  sort  of 
morning  when  one  might  expect  something  un- 
usual, something  very  remarkable,  to  happen." 

Mr.  Wyman  raised  his  eyes  from  his  newspaper, 
as  if  politeness  required  him  to  take  some  notice 
of  his  daughter's  remark.  His  face  wore  an  ex- 
pression of  brooding  melancholy,  which  was  be- 
coming more  confirmed  of  late.  His  wife,  who 
was  mending  his  coat,  looked  curiously  and  ex- 
pectantly at  Pauline.  The  girl  must  be  starting 
soon  for  the  office ;  there  was  scant  time  for  pre- 
liminaries, if  she  meant  to  tell  her  story  this 
morning. 

"  You  know,  father,  a  fog  always  seems  to  sug- 
gest mystery." 

"Does  it?  This  is  pretty  thick,"  said  Mr. 
Wyman,  as  if  making  a  discovery,  "  and  we  seldom 
have  snow  so  deep." 

"That's  true.  Jim  says  the  snow  is  as  'deep 
as  first  love,  and  nearly  as  soft,'  "  laughed  Pauline. 
245 


246  PAULINE   WYMAN. 

"  Now,  father,  you  were  speaking,  the  other  day, 
of  'blue  roses.'  Do  you  believe  there  are  any 
under  this  snow  ?  " 

She  had  planted  the  carpet-sweeper  squarely 
against  the  wall,  and  was  regarding  him  with  a 
humorous  expression  which  did  not  wholly  conceal 
her  real  earnestness. 

"  '  Blue  roses  ? '  "  he  repeated,  vaguely. 

"  Why,  father,  have  you  forgotten  what  you 
told  me,  that  the  term  '  blue  roses '  signifies  the 
improbable,  the  unreal  ? " 

"Ah,  I  recall  it  now.  No  one  ever  saw  in  nat- 
ure a  blue  rose  ;  it  is  something  that  never  was 
on  sea  or  land.  It  is  like  a  Greek  kalend,  or  a 
burning  iceberg,  or  a  cairn  hurricane.  Let  me 
see,  what  was  your  question  ?  Are  there  any 
blue  roses  under  a  snowdrift  ?  Was  that  the  drift 
of  it  ? " 

He  made  an  effort  to  be  sportive. 

"  Yes,  father.  In  other  words,  would  you  say 
that  anything  very  desirable  and  decidedly  out 
of  the  common  is  ever  likely  to  happen  to  the 
Wyman  family  ? " 

He  laughed  rather  bitterly. 

"  Judging  by  the  past,  no  !  Don't  allow  yourself 
to  think  of  such  a  thing,  child.  If  anything  can  be 
counted  on,  in  this  changing  world,  it  is  that  the 
humdrum  Wymans  were  not  born  to  luck." 

Then,  as  Pauline  slipped  out  of  the  room,  he 
said  to  his  wife,  — 

"  My  dear,  I  can't  bear  to  think  that  that  girl 


m 


'Why,  what's  this?'    he  exclaimed,"^ — Page  247. 


THE   END.  247 

has  a  dreamy  cast  of  mind.  Did  it  ever  occur  to 
you  that  she  is  at  all  like  me  ? " 

"  She  is  practical  enough,  never  fear,"  replied 
Mrs.  Wyman,  with  distinct  mental  reservation. 
"But  here  she  comes.  She  looks  as  if  she  had 
something  important  to  say." 

Pauline's  face  was  aglow  with  happy  excitement. 

"  Now,  father,  we'll  see  what  sort  of  eyes  you 
have.  Here  is  a  blue  rose  for  you,  as  blue  as  the 
sky.  Take  it  in  your  hand  ;  give  it  a  good  look." 

He  smiled  good-naturedly,  though  he  would 
have  chosen  to  finish,  without  interruption,  the 
report  of  the  doings  in  Congress.  He  dropped 
his  newspaper  and  opened  the  parchment. 

"  What  ?  Why,  what's  this  ?  "  he  exclaimed, 
leaning  forward  in  surprise.  He  looked  again, 
closely. 

"What  is  it?"  he  cried,  and  rose  to  his  feet. 
"  Where  did  you  get  this  ?  " 

He  had  become  very  pale,  and  the  document 
shook  in  his  hands. 

"  This  —  this  forgery  ?  Speak  and  tell  me, 
Pauline  !  Who  did  it  ? " 

The  girl  was  kneeling  by  his  chair,  her  eyes 
moist  with  "the  tear  that  trembles  just  before 
the  smile." 

"  It  is  not  a  forgery,  father ;  it  is  the  real  thing. 
It  has  been  lying  in  the  attic  all  these  years." 

"Impossible!" 

"And  you  overlooked  it,  because  it  was  faded 
out  to  nothing,  —  a  mere  blank." 


248  PAULINE  WYMAN. 

"But,  my  child  —  " 

Pauline  did  not  wait  for  him  to  finish  the  sen- 
tence. 

"You  want  to  know  who  found  it?  It  was  I. 
Mother  allowed  me  to  go  up  there.  You  see  my 
curiosity  was  piqued  by  what  Old  Lady  Pettijohn 
told  of  Major  Wyman,  and  the  making  of  the  will." 

"  Old  Lady  Pettijohn  ?  " 

"  Yes,  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Wyman,  breaking  in.  "  I 
told  you  she  was  here  the  other  day,  and  you  know 
she  was  one  of  the  witnesses.  There's  her  maiden 
name,  if  you'll  look  at  it,  — Jerusha  Ladd." 

"Yes,  I  knew  her  maiden  name  was  Jerusha 
Ladd  ;  but  what  has  that  to  do  with  it  ? "  said  Mr. 
Wyman,  putting  his  hand  to  his  forehead. 

"  Oh,  father,  this  bewilders  you,  of  course.  It's 
too  wonderful  for  belief.  But  haven't  you  always 
known  Jerusha  Ladd  was  in  this  house  when  the 
will  was  made,  and  that  she  signed  as  witness  ?  " 

"  Pauline,"  said  Mr.  Wyman,  sinking  back  in  his 
chair,  and  holding  the  paper  at  arm's  length  be- 
fore him,  "  will  you  please  speak  slowly  and  —  dis- 
tinctly ?  Did  this  come  out  of  the  attic  ?  There's 
the  point." 

"Yes,  father.  1  happened  to  spy  a  sheet  of 
blank  paper  in  that  tall  secretary,  and  it  struck  me 
as  queer  —  " 

"  In  the  tall  secretary  !  I've  gone  through  that 
a  thousand  times.  Blank  paper,  you  say  ?  " 

"  It  looked  blank,  certainly.  I  don't  believe  one 
person  in  a  hundred  would  have  noticed  those 


THE   END.  249 

little  pen-scratches.  But  you  know  my  eyes  are 
preternaturally  sharp;  you  always  said  so." 

"  Yes,  yes.     But  where  is  your  blank  paper  ? " 

Pauline  began  to  laugh. 

"  Oh,  mother,  you'll  have  to  explain.  You  see 
how  I  confuse  him." 

"  I  am  afraid  I  shall  do  no  better  than  you, 
Pauline.  This  is  the  blank  paper  that  she  found 
in  the  attic,  Charles."  Mrs.  Wyman  spoke  gently 
but  emphatically,  as  one  repeats  a  lesson  to  a  child. 
"This  is  the  paper;  you  are  holding  it  in  your 
hand.  The  writing  on  it  had  faded,  but  it  was 
restored  by —  " 

"Sulphide  of  ammonia,  father." 

"Incredible!"  he  exclaimed.  "Absurd  on  the 
face  of  it !  What  does  Pauline  know  about  chem- 
istry ? " 

As  if  that  settled  the  matter  conclusively. 

"  It  was  Professor  Wishart,  father,  who  put  it 
on  with  a  sponge  —  I  mean  the  sulphide.  But 
don't  try  to  believe  it  ;  don't  try." 

"  Professor  Wishart  ?  Why,  that  sounds  more 
reasonable." 

"  It  must  have  been  poor  ink,  father.  Old  Lady 
Pettijohn  said  they  had  to  put  water  in  it." 

"  Yes,  yes  ;  poor  ink.  Sixty-four  years  old.  It 
faded  out.  Why  not  ?  Mary,  this  is  my  grand- 
father's signature.  As  true  as  you  live,  it  is  Melzar 
Wyman's  signature." 

"  I  knew  you  would  say  so,  dear.  I  recognized 
it  myself." 


250  PAULINE   WYMAN. 

"  So  did  I,"  echoed  Pauline.  "  I've  seen  it  on 
the  fly-leaves  of  so  many  books.  Oh,  father,  you 
couldn't  understand  this  at  first,  could  you  ?  You 
can't  now ;  but  when  you  do,  you'll  be  so  happy, 
—  so  glad  you're  alive  !  " 

Mr.  Wyman  laid  the  paper  on  the  table,  sprang 
up,  and  caught  his  daughter  to  his  breast. 

"  I  understand  enough  to  be  glad  you're  alive, 
Pauline !  Yes,  I  comprehend  the  whole  thing." 

"  Dear  father ! " 

"  I  had  reason  to  think  the  will  had  not  been 
destroyed ;  that  was  why  I  held  on  to  every 
scrap  in  that  attic.  I  couldn't  give  up  our  rights, 
Pauline."  His  voice  was  high-pitched,  unnatural. 
"And  now  our  rights  have  been  restored  to  us 
through  you,  my  daughter !  It's  the  most  natural 
thing  in  the  world  that  it  should  be  through  you. 
Ever  since  the  day  you  were  given  to  us,  Pauline, 
you've  been  our  joy  and  our  blessing." 

"  And  it  doesn't  spoil  her  to  tell  her  so  ;  that's 
the  best  of  it,"  said  Mrs.  Wyman,  with  one  arm 
around  Pauline's  neck  and  her  cheek  against  her 
husband's  hand. 

It  seemed  to  the  girl  just  then  that  life  was 
almost  "  sweeter  than  a  heart  can  bear." 

"There  was  a  pot  of  gold  under  our  window 
rainbows,"  said  she  to  Professor  Wishart,  when 
he  called  that  evening  to  offer  congratulations. 

"  But  not  fairy  gold,  Pauline !  "  and  this  time 
he  shook  hands  warmly. 

It  was  a  very  happy  group  assembled  in  the  old 


THE   END.  251 

sitting-room :  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Wyman,  Professor 
Wishart,  James  and  Pauline,  and,  in  the  centre  of 
all,  Uncle  Ike,  looking  as  if  this  great  happiness 
had  befallen  himself,  and  he  were  sharing  it  with 
the  others. 

"  This  will  do  for  Christmas-tide,"  said  he,  rev- 
erently. "The  Lord  has  been  better  to  us  than 
we  trusted  Him  for." 

A  little  later,  as  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Wyman  were 
summoned  to  the  parlor  to  entertain  callers,  James 
said,  turning  to  Professor  Wishart,  — 

"  You  think  you  know  the  whole  story,  but  you 
don't ;  there's  a  sequel  to  it.  Paul  won't  let  us 
have  this  money." 

"  Now,  Jim  !  " 

"  I'll  leave  it  to  Uncle  Ike.  She  thinks  Mr. 
Raymond  would  prefer  to  keep  it." 

The  professor's  hand  sought  Pauline's  again. 

"Tell  me  about  it,  please.  James  shan't  chaff 
you." 

"  I've  been  wanting  to  tell  you,  Professor  Wish- 
art,  for  you  will  understand." 

He  gave  the  little  hand  a  sympathetic  pressure. 

"  I'm  not  sure,  Pauline  ;  but  go  on." 

"This  money  is  ours  ;  but  if  we  take  it  all  away 
from  Mr.  Raymond,  the  man  is  undone,  I  fear,  — 
virtually  ruined." 

"  Serves  him  right,  too  !  " 

"What !  to  take  it  all,  Mr.  Wishart  ? " 

"The  whole  is  yours,  Pauline,  or  none  is  yours." 

"  Yes  ;  but  to  let  the  Raymonds  suffer  !  " 


252  PAULINE  WYMAN. 

"  Suffering  may  be  good  for  them,"  said  the 
young  man,  with  apparent  seriousness,  exchanging 
glances  with  Uncle  Ike ;  "  particularly  for  Miss 
Victoria.  It  may  teach  her  not  to  be  supercilious 
to  people  who  work  for  a  living." 

"  Oh,  have  you  noticed  that  ? "  said  Pauline,  her 
face  flushing.  "  Isn't  she  hateful  ? " 

"  Very.  But  when  the  tables  are  turned,  shan't 
we  all  enjoy  seeing  her  humbled  ? " 

"  Don't  say  that !  That's  just  what  myself  said 
to  me  in  the  first  place.  And  it  frightened  me. 
It's  just  like  Tory's  own  self  to  feel  so.  Am  I 
going  to  stoop  to  take  her  money  if  'twill  drag  me 
down  to  her  level  ?  No  ;  I'll  throw  it  in  the  sea 
first !"  cried  Pauline,  with  a  regal  toss  of  the 
head,  given  only  on  rare  occasions,  when  she  felt 
that  her  high  ideals  were  assailed  and  she  must 
not  yield  her  ground. 

How  much  did  the  girl  mean,  and  how  far  would 
she  carry  her  transcendental  notions  ?  wondered 
the  professor.  He  went  on  in  a  bantering  tone,  — 

"  So  you  don't  care  in  the  least  for  Miss  Tory's 
good,  Pauline?  'The  healthy  stimulus  of  prospec- 
tive want '  would  wake  up  her  faculties.  Think 
what  it  has  done  for  you  !  " 

"That's  so,"  said  Uncle  Ike. 

"  And  it  might  make  a  noble  woman  of  Victoria," 
went  on  Mr.  Wishart.  "  Yet  here  you  step  in  and 
thwart  the  designs  of  Providence." 

"I  didn't  think  you'd  laugh  at  me,  Professor 
Wishart,"  said  Pauline,  with  an  appealing  glance, 


THE   END.  253 

which  somehow  reminded  Uncle  Ike  that  he  might 
be  in  the  way  if  he  should  stay  much  longer.  "  I 
wanted  to  talk  seriously,  Mr.  Wishart,  and  ask 
you  if  you  don't  think  Mr.  Raymond  as  a  blood- 
relation  of  Major  Wyman  ought  to  have  half  this 
property  ? " 

"  I  should  say,  Pauline,  that  your  father  is  the 
one  to  answer  that  question.  I  am  sure  he  will 
do  what  is  right." 

"  Yes,  but  he  left  it  to  me ;  he  will  do  what  I 
say." 

"  Well,  then,  don't  you  say  anything"  pronounced 
Uncle  Ike,  rising.  "  Let  your  father  work  it  out 
to  suit  himself  ;  he's  the  one.  And  Charles  Wyman 
can  be  trusted  to  do  the  square  thing.  But  I  must 
go  home  now.  Good  night ;  kiss  me,  little  girl, 
and  remember,  whatever's  before  you,  and  what- 
ever new  paths  you  may  enter  upon,  you  carry 
Uncle  Ike's  blessing  !  " 

As  he  went  into  the  hall  to  put  on  his  overshoes, 
Professor  Wishart  remarked  to  James,  — 

"  I  suppose  there  will  be  no  change  in  your  plans, 
as  regards  the  law  ? " 

"  No,  I  always  had  a  leaning  that  way,  and  a  man 
should  follow  his  bent ;  don't  you  think  so  ?  " 

"  And  pray,  brother,  what  should  a  woman  fol- 
low ? "  said  Pauline,  rising  and  bowing  low  before 
him. 

"  Look  here,  sister,  you're  not  going  to  harp  on 
the  higher  education  —  after  all  this?" 

"And  why  not  ?  "  spoke  up  the  professor.     "  Why 


254  PAULINE   WYMAN. 

shouldn't  she  enjoy  a  few  care-free,  happy  years 
among  books,  just  as  you've  done  and  are  going 
to  do  ?  Life  is  all  before  her  where  to  choose. 
Would  you  restrict  her  because  she's  a  woman  ? " 

"  So  you  aid  and  abet,  do  you,  Wishart  ?  For 
my  part,  I  don't  want  a  brilliant  girl  like  my  sister 
settling  down  into  an  —  " 

Here  James  paused  and  decided  not  to  finish 
the  sentence.  For  one  thing,  nobody  seemed  to  be 
listening.  For  another  thing,  his  perceptions  hav- 
ing been  considerably  sharpened  to-day,  he  noted 
the  rapt  way  in  which  Professor  Wishart  looked  at 
Pauline,  and  it  was  a  revelation  to  him. 

"  What  an  idiot  I've  been  !  It  isn't  Eva  after 
all,"  he  thought. 

And  his  eyes  lighted  like  the  eyes  of  Jonathan 
after  he  had  tasted  the  honey  in  the  wood. 

"Wait  for  me,  Uncle  Ike,"  he  called  out,  hurry- 
ing toward  the  door,  "  wait  a  minute,  please.  I 
want  to  walk  home  with  you." 

As  he  left  the  house  with  the  colonel,  James 
shut  the  front  door  with  a  thud. 

"  Well,  if  this  isn't  a  thunderbolt  out  of  a  clear 
sky  !  And  I  think  Pauline  is  about  as  much  sur- 
prised as  we  are,  don't  you,  Uncle  Ike  ?  " 

There  was  no  answer. 

"  Perhaps  you  saw  it  a  minute  before  I  did, 
Uncle  Ike.  I  didn't  think  at  the  time ;  but  was 
tJiis  what  you  meant  just  now  when  you  gave  her 
your  blessing  on  '  new  paths  '  ? " 

"  Yes.     She  understood,  the  dear  child !  " 


THE   END.  255 

"  Now,  look  here,  Uncle  Ike,  isn't  this  a  pretty 
time  of  day  for  Wishart  to  step  forward  and  lay 
claim  to  our  only  ?  /  don't  think  he's  mercenary, 
mind  you,  but  there  are  plenty  of  people  that 
will.  They'll  say,  '  Why  hasn't  he  thought  of  this 
before?'" 

"  How  do  you  know  he  hasn't  ?  " 

Jim  whistled. 

"  What  do  you  mean,  uncle  ?  How  long  have 
you  noticed  it  ? " 

"  How  long  has  he  been  in  town,  Jamie  ?  " 

"  Twenty  months  or  so.  Yes,  I  know  he  has 
been  coming  to  our  house  right  along ;  in  fact,  he 
has  haunted  the  Wyman  place,  but  not  for  the 
sake  of  seeing  Paul !  " 

"  Ah  ? " 

"  Why,  Uncle  Ike,  you  don't  mean  it?  I  thought 
I  could  see  through  this  sort  of  thing,  and  I  cer- 
tainly could  if  there  had  been  the  least  sign  given." 

" Indeed  !  " 

"  Why,  Uncle  Ike,  what  keen  eyes  you  have  ! 
Well,  well,  well,  just  put  me  in  a  blind  asylum, 
will  you  ?  And  you  are  dead  sure  Paul  likes 
him  ? " 

"  Didn't  I  just  give  her  my  blessing  ? " 

The  old  gentleman  spoke  in  gasps.  James  was 
hurrying  him  out  of  breath. 

"  Good  !  There's  one  thing  I'll  say  right  here, 
Uncle  Ike :  this  suits  me !  He'll  make  her  an 
admirable  husband.  Paul  is  notional,  and  he 
means  to  let  her  go  through  college  before  they 


256  PAULINE   WYMAN. 

marry,  just  to  gratify  her;  I  see  it's  all  understood 
between  them.  Why,  he's  too  good  to  live !  I 
always  said  Wishart  was  a  fine  fellow,  and  I  say 
now,  there's  nobody  I'd  sooner  choose  for  a 
brother." 

"  That's  clever,"  panted  the  colonel.  "  I  have 
not  the  least  doubt  you'll  like  him  —  for  a 
brother ! " 

"  Now  there's  a  meaning  to  that,"  thought 
James.  "Why,  I  never  talked  to  him  of  Eva 
in  my  life  !  " 

"  I  didn't  quite  understand  your  last  remark," 
said  he,  aloud. 

"I  wasn't  aware  that  I  had  said  anything," 
replied  Uncle  Ike,  looking  up  at  the  radiant 
winter  sky  with  a  smile. 


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